The Demon Within
by deanine
Summary: Dreams are keeping Clark Kent up nights. Beyond the shadows, a darkness lurks, waiting, laughing, starving. As Clark will soon learn, some demons must be fought from the inside. Very AU Concluded
1. Sweet Dreams

**

The Demon Within

**

**Chapter 1 **

**Sweet Dreams **

Blue doe eyes and pouting red lips, Lana Lang grinned seductively and beckoned with her shiny red nailed hand. Her black leather mini-skirt, hugging her like a second skin fell to the ground revealing sexy red panties. "Come here, now. You know you want this."

Clark moved forward. Lana's shirt hit him in the chest, and his eyes strayed down to her revealing red bra. He could see the school pool to his right, hazy and indistinct, but this was more important. This moment was too important. He was going to get this right this time. Clark pulled Lana to him and claimed her lips in a hard possessive kiss. Clark felt the burning behind his eyelids that he had only recently learned to control and he forced it down.

"whY figHt iT?"

Clark jumped back. That voice had been loud, sarcastic, cold. "Who's there?" Lana was stroking at his chest, nibbling at his neck. "One second, okay?" Clark pushed Lana back, and she stuck her bottom lip out, pouting. Something was moving in the shadows, pacing. The sound of leather soles striking the concrete floor filled the room echoing over and over. "I know someone's there."

"Who cares," Lana whined. She walked around behind Clark and threaded her hands into his hair. "He can watch."

It was hard to stay focused on the stranger, with Lana kneading his scalp. Then her hands strayed down his back and started pushing up his shirt. Concerns about, strange pacing people faded back and Clark sighed deeply.

"DOn'T iGnORe mE!" the pacer shouted.

The back rub ended and Lana gasped. She gripped at Clark's shirt, holding herself up. "Clark, help me."

"Lana?" Clark turned and cradled Lana in his arms. The red from her fingernails and lips had spread, so very much blood. It was everywhere, an ever-expanding pool of warm life. "What's wrong? What happened? Help, someone help us."

"DeLiCATe CReaTurES, aRen't thEY? SACks oF wATeR aND sAlt BAreLy heLD toGETheR bY a thIn laYer Of pRotEIN, thEy'Re HArDly aLivE aT aLL," the voice said.

Clark stared into the shadows, trying to see his tormentor. "You did this. You hurt her. Come out here and face me, now!" he shouted. Lana's lips had stopped moving and her chest wasn't rising. Clark stroked at her blood soaked hair, and her skin was cool to the touch. "You killed her!"

"YoU tHink thiS iS bAd? tHis is nOthinG. i'm GOing tO do A wHolE LOt wORsE THan tHIs."

Clark stood and turned slowly, looking for the owner of the voice, the murderer. "Come out here!"

Unseen hands pushed him from behind and Clark fell toward the pool. Instead of water, it was filled with thick red blood. "No!" Clark screamed.

* * *

"You're late! Get up now! I won't be calling you again."

Clark sat up in bed, gasping for air. His sheets were stuck to his sweaty body like an uncomfortable second skin. After peeling himself out his covers, Clark took up a little notebook from his nightstand. He'd had another dream, well nightmare. When it started, he hadn't thought much of it. People had nightmares sometimes. It was normal. These nightmares had progressed though. Originally, they'd been a rare occurrence, once a month. Now they were an every night occurrence, and they were getting worse, more graphic and threatening. The notebook was supposed to be a dream journal. A sleep disorder website had recommended one, and Clark had decided to give it a shot.

With a sigh, Clark looked between the notebook and his alarm clock. He was late, but if he didn't write the dream up now, he'd forget bits of it. Speed was useful for running to school and dodging bullets, but Clark was using it more and more often to do delicate tasks like his art homework, and writing papers. Sometimes he thought he could just live at full speed, well if it wouldn't mean being branded a freak and disected.

A steak of color, Clark tore around the room getting dressed. Once fully clothed and ready for school, he scribbled up his dream. Tossing his journal onto his bed, Clark headed downstairs.

* * *

After sending Jonathan and Clark on their way, Martha made her way upstairs. She sighed when she poked her head into Clark's bedroom. He hadn't made his bed or taken his nightclothes to the hamper. They were going to have another talk about helping her out now that she was working full time.

Lionel had declared today a half-day so she didn't have to be there until noon, but it was annoying to have to waste part of her day on something Clark knew he was supposed to do. Martha tossed the blanket on the floor and began smoothing at the pale blue linens underneath. When she tried to toss the spread back on, a notebook went flying. It hit the ceiling and fluttered to the ground.

It probably wasn't anything important, but Martha flinched anyway. She took the little book and flipped it shut. The front cover was dangling half-off, and a couple of the front pages looked like they might just fall out. "Dream Journal," Martha read aloud. This was obviously private. She should put the notebook down and ask Clark about it later.

Martha set the book down and finished making the bed. With a frown she turned back to Clark's journal. She'd messed the thing up. She should at least try to fix it.

Downstairs, with some craft glue and a roll of scotch tape, Martha set about restoring Clark's journal. First she repositioned the pages where they were supposed to be, then she started taping. Occasionally a word or phrase would jump out at her: dead eyes, blood, shadow voices. It was all she could do to not pick up the thing and start reading.

Clark had been having nightmares, that much was obvious from the snippets she'd accidentally read. Why hadn't she or Jonathan heard about it? The poor thing, he was trying to deal with it himself. He probably didn't want to add to the tension around the farm. God knew there had been enough of that lately.

It would be okay. She and Clark would have a nice long talk, and make sure things were fine. Martha had had a couple of college courses in psychology and she knew that dreams could be a sign of emotional distress.

Mentally, she penciled an afternoon talk with her son into her busy schedule, and smiled to herself. It felt good to have a busy schedule. It made her feel more important than she had in a long time.

As long as she kept her priorities straight, as Jonathan was so want to say, working was a good thing.

* * *

Clark arrived at school right after the morning rush. The quad was silent in the way only a schoolyard can be right after the second bell. It's a tentative quiet, almost like the kids left a bit of themselves behind, the potential for sound.

Not even bothering to go to homeroom, Clark made his way to the secretary's office to pick up his tardy slip. The new principal was going to be unhappy. He had made Clark's tardiness his personal crusade. No use crying over it now though.

Tardy slip in hand, Clark tried to make a quiet entrance into Geometry. Thankfully, Mr. Carter chose to accept the slip without stopping his lecture for any scolding. Clark caught Chloe's eye on the way to his seat, and she tapped her watch disapprovingly at him. Once safely slouching in his desk, Clark relaxed.

It didn't take long for the Pythagorean theorem to wear thin, and Clark started doodling randomly. At first it was just an odd jumble of lines, but gradually it took form, an eye, stretched wide, and surrounded by blackness.

"Want to work together?"

Clark jumped and turned. "What?"

"Come on Clark, tardy and zoning out, you can do better," Chloe said. "We have to work in groups of two to design a miniature golf hole. You're better at this stuff than me. It's all a little too left-brined for my taste. So?"

Clark grinned and covered his doodle with his hand. For some irrational reason he didn't want Chloe to see it. It felt dark, dirty. "Sounds good to me."

"Great then, we can meet at the Talon after school and hash out some ideas," Chloe said. "A good latte always helps jumpstart the left-brain in me."

"You have a left-brain?" Clark joked.

"Do I look like I'm going into creative writing? Of course I have a left brain, just not an over developed one like some people," Chloe said. The perfect joking facade fractured and Chloe frowned. She had to hold back the instinct to reach out and touch Clark. They were friends and friends didn't rub their thumbs across other friend's jawbones. He looked kind of tired, unusual for Clark on any day. There were dark smudges under his eyes. "Have you been getting enough rest? You seem a little tired."

_Too much rest..._ "I'm fine."

* * *

**Author's Note **

First off, this is a dark little pleasure that's been in my head for a while now. I needed a break from studies, and the other story I'm writing, so I elected to toy with this little guy for a bit.

Second, this story is at the bottom of my priority list at the moment, so I wouldn't expect a chapter a week or anything like my normally strict schedules ;)

Finally, before it's asked... I'm still a romantic fence sitter. I think this is more likely to turn into a Chlark than a Lark, but that's just a guess.


	2. Waking Dream

**Chapter 2 **

Ambush, that was the only word for what Clark found at home. His mom and dad were sitting in the kitchen with his dream journal between them. Had they read it? Surely they hadn't. It was private. They'd probably want him to see a psychiatrist if they'd read it. Those dreams weren't pretty, or easy to explain away. "Hi."

"Clark, baby, you're home early," Martha said. She pushed the little notebook across the table guiltily. "I ran across this little book when I was making your bed this morning. Aside from the fact that I shouldn't have had to make your bed, it concerned me that you started a dream journal. Have you been sleeping well? You can talk to us."

"You read it didn't you. I can't believe you'd read that," Clark said. He snatched the notebook up and curled it in his fist. "This isn't any of your business. If I wanted to talk about it, I'd have come to you."

Jonathan shook his head and held his hands up in surrender. "Hey, I just walked in the door. From what I understand no one has read anything. Your mother's just a little worried about you. With all this defensiveness, I have to wonder if she's justified." Jonathan arched his eyebrow speculatively.

Clark's shoulders slumped and he shrugged. He was defensive. The dreams scared him. He didn't understand how those images could play inside his head, and he was ashamed for anyone to know about them. "I'm sorry. This is just something I'm dealing with myself. I've been having a few nightmares, and I decided to research dreaming a little to learn about them. A website recommended the journal. That's the whole story." Clark stared at the notebook and his mother's repair job. Maybe his dad hadn't read the thing, but his mom had obviously been fiddling around with it. "As much as I'd love to chat about my stupid little journal, I have to meet Chloe soon, so I better get started on my chores."

Clark was gone before Martha could even reply to his explanation. "I don't like it. He's really upset for just a couple of nightmares. Maybe you should try talking to him without me, father to son, you know?"

Jonathan nodded. "I think that might be a good idea."

Clark stuffed his journal in his back pocket and just stood in the sun for a long moment. He let the warm rays bake through him. With the sun on his skin and the wind tugging at his clothes, Clark always felt better, stronger, clearer. With a deep sigh, he headed for the cows in the back pasture.

* * *

Chloe sat alone in her booth at the Talon. With a grimace, she took up her notepad and sketched a hole with a flag sticking out of it. "There, I contributed." Clark would hopefully be more into the whole, create a golf hole project. She drank down a gulp of coffee and moved on to her literature homework. 

"Chloe, girl, what are you doing?" Pete said. He plopped down in the seat opposite her beverage in hand. He scanned her doodle critically. "I hope this isn't your creation for Mr. Carter's infamous miniature-golf-hole-assignment. There's a reason I'm in trigonometry this year. He's a real Nazi about this thing by all reports."

Chloe looked up and shrugged. "I'm actually hoping Clark will be the captain of this particular project. He's aced every test in there, and I don't think he even takes notes. I swear it makes me sick sometimes."

"Yet somehow we remain friends," Pete said.

Chloe tossed her pencil down and frowned speculatively. "I'm a little worried about Clark. He seems a little exhausted lately, you know? Am I just imagining things?"

Pete froze, frappicino halfway to his mouth. Clark, tired? That wasn't terribly likely. Aliens didn't get tired that often in Pete's limited experience. "I imagine you're imagining it."

When she spotted Clark making his way toward them she had to agree with Pete. He looked just fine, practically glowing. "Hey Clark, you feeling inspired?"

"Inspired about miniature golf? Not really, but I'll fake it," Clark said. He took the seat by Pete. "I'm not late am I?"

"Nah, I just arrived early," Chloe said. "I thought I might get a little studying done before the golf-hole nonsense, no offense Clark."

Clark held his hands up in mock surrender. "I didn't come up with the project. You can't offend me. Any ideas for a theme?"

"Well, I considered meteor madness. We could have a bevy of red and green meteor rocks to decorate whatever geometric nonsense you come up with, but then I thought, nah. That much meteor rock together in one place is an accident waiting to happen," Chloe said.

Pete almost choked on his beverage and barely kept a knowing grin off his face at Clark's blanched expression. The boy was probably having a waking nightmare at the mention of that much meteor rock. "You have any better ideas Clark, man?" Pete asked. "Otherwise I think you'll have to go with that one."

Clark frowned at Pete's subtle ribbing and turned to Chloe. "How about a farm theme? That's all I've come up with so far."

"Corn or cow?" Chloe deadpanned. "Come on Clark, all I get is the artistic contribution. How about a Daily Planet hole?"

As long as it isn't a meteor madness hole... "That's great," Clark said. "I could work with that."

* * *

The light shining from the kitchen window illuminated Martha and Jonathan sitting down to dinner. Clark watched his parents from the yard, but he didn't go in. He had resolutely not thought about the ambush his parents had sprung that afternoon, but now he sort of had to face it. Clark pulled out his journal and tapped it in his hand. His mom had read at least part of it. It was a wonder she hadn't freaked out more. 

"I am not a homicidal maniac in the making, so why am I dreaming about death and destruction?" Clark pulled out his now infamous dream journal and started flipping through its heavily scribbled pages. "Maybe there's something psychologically wrong with me?" Red meteor rock had shown what kind of danger a conscienceless psychopathic version of Clark Kent was capable of. "But I'm not going crazy. This is just a couple of dreams." _I'm not crazy. I'm not. I'd get help if this were really a problem. _

It was stupid of him, lingering on the porch. He should just go in and have dinner. There wasn't any reason to stress over this. With a sigh, he headed in. "Hey."

Martha looked up and pointed a serving spoon at Clark. "You're late young man. I assume you and Chloe got a lot of work done?"

Clark shrugged and nodded quickly. Didn't she think he was a psycho? "I'm sorry about being late. We got busy." Washing up without even being asked, Clark refrained from meeting his mom's eyes.

"That's not a crime," Jonathan said.

**NO THAT's nOt a CRimE, iS IT?**

"What?" Clark said. His heart had jumped into his throat. That voice was straight out of his dreams.

"I said, it's not a crime, being a little late," Jonathan said. He smiled quizzically and continued serving himself.

Clark nodded and turned off the water. They hadn't heard it. His parents were just going on like nothing had happened. It's just because you're tired... but he wasn't tired. Maybe he was dreaming? Clark could hear his breaths coming short and shallow. He just imagined it because he was thinking about the stupid dreams all the time.

"Are you okay, son? You're white as a sheet," Jonathan said.

Clark shook his head and backed slowly toward the door. "I have to..."

**rUn away? i tHInk yOu sHoulD ruN, but YOu caN't geT aWAy frOm me bY ruNNInG.**

"God, help me," Clark whispered. In the shadows, it was moving. The tapping footsteps were approaching. "You don't hear that?"

"What is it?" Martha asked. She turned to slowly listening, but she didn't hear anything. "What does it sound like?"

"I don't hear anything," Jonathan said. "Sit down son and we'll talk."

The tapping stopped and the hint of motion in the shadows faded back. Am I going insane? "I'm not hungry. I have to get out of here," Clark said. "I promise, I won't stay out too late."

"Wait, what's wrong?" Martha said. She stepped toward Clark but he ran away too quickly. "I've never seen him like that. He was absolutely spooked."

"I'm officially concerned," Jonathan said. "Did you read any of that dream journal? Was it anything to be concerned about?"

"I didn't really read anything. I caught a word here or there," Martha said. "It didn't sound pleasant, but I don't know the substance. I really didn't read it."

Jonathan threw his napkin onto the table and headed out onto the porch, but Clark was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

In the south pasture, surrounded by cows, Clark stopped running. _Am I crazy? I heard **him,** clear as day, standing in the Kitchen. _"It wasn't real. I imagined it." It couldn't have been real. One of the cows bellowed at him and Clark jumped. "You scared me there, Alice." With a nervous laugh, Clark patted at the Holstein's flank. 

**I dON't liKe coWs. **

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Okay, there were a lot of good questions, almost none of which I can answer, except to say, read on. The one question I can answer, "Whatever happened to Clark Kent, the Wanton and Fair?" grin Methinks you haven't read Chapter 4 dear becs :)

Otherwise, there will definitely be another chapter of this one soon. I wrote most of chapter 3 right after writing this one.


	3. Hamburger

**Chapter 3 **

A shrill ringing, the second bell, filled the quad swarming with kids. Clark watched as the other kids ran for the white brick buildings, but he couldn't follow. His legs wouldn't move. He was going to be late and Principal Reynolds was not going to be happy with him.

Out of nowhere, Chloe appeared. She grabbed him by the arm and started pulling. "Come on Clark. We've got to hurry."

Clark opened his mouth to explain that he couldn't move, but apparently that had passed with Chloe's tug at his arm. "I couldn't move out there. Are we heading to the Torch?"

"Please don't tell me you forgot about today. Geometry, golf hole demonstration, you did bring the model?" Chloe said.

"We haven't even started building the model," Clark hissed. "The presentation isn't for weeks."

Chloe froze in front of the classroom door and laughed. "Please, stop joking. I see the model. You were just trying to scare me, weren't you." She stepped back and ushered Clark in.

Instead of the Daily Planet hole they'd discussed, a red and green glowing model was taking up the front half of the classroom.

"And now we have meteor madness hole to be demonstrated by Mr. Kent and Ms. Sullivan," Mr. Carter announced.

Clark shook his head and turned to face the class, but it wasn't just the geometry class. The entire school was sitting out there watching. Chloe shuffled past him no longer in her usual school attire but in a floor length red sequined dress and flashy ruby and diamond jewelry. She grinned and gestured Vanna-White-style to the model golf hole. "I can't," Clark whispered. A little putter appeared in his hand, the cold metal heavy as lead in his fingers. Even this far from the glowing rocks, Clark could feel the weakness and sickness eating at him. He slowly backed away from Chloe's beckoning figure. Nausea washed through him and the rocks seemed to flash brighter, almost mocking his efforts to get away.

"He's scared of the hole," Whitney sneered from the crowd. Lana, still beautiful but somehow empty and harsh, draped herself across his arm and started laughing and pointing at Clark. "What a freaking dork."

Like a deafening roar, the audience joined in Lana's laughter, pointing and jeering.

"ThEy'Re aLL juSt cATtle, StupiD hErd aNimalS. hOw CaN yoU sTANd iT? SoMEonE shoulD shOW tHem hoW sTupid TheY all Are," the voice of Clark's nightmares called.

The hideous broken voice had emerged from the shadows, first from one side of the room, then another. Clark threw his putter at the last location of the voice. "What the Hell are you? Get out of my head!" Clark screamed.

He was answered by silence, perfect and unbroken. The crowd was not jeering any longer. Clark turned slowly and bile rose in his throat. They were all dead, chests ripped open, hearts gone. The empty pairs of eyes stared at him, accusingly. Clark squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered hollowly. "Stop, please. I won't let you do this. You don't get to hurt anyone."

A cool hand slid along Clark's back, and a rancid wind blew past his ear.

"eMBraCe iT. DO yoU taSTe IT?"

A coppery flavor, warm and thick filled Clark's mouth. His eyes flew open and he was facing a mirror. A horrible grinning version of himself, red tissue, the miniscule remains of a hundred hearts, stuck in his teeth and blood dripping from his chin, was glaring back at him. Clark looked down, and his shirt was covered in blood as were his hands. The red substance was ground under his nails. The reflection was him and the taste in his mouth...

* * *

Clark awoke to the sound of his own screams. He sat up in the gently waving pasture grass where he'd been with the heifers the evening before. The last waking moment he remembered, he'd been patting the cow, Alice. Another dream, just another dream, that's all it was. Clark gasped, sobs choking him. "I'm going completely insane." He reached a trembling hand up to verify that it wasn't covered in blood like he'd dreamed but... Clark stared for a long moment, not willing to accept what his eyes were telling him. His hands were red stained and sticky. Flesh was jammed under the nails. "No, he whispered raggedly." It was just a dream though! He had to still be dreaming. This couldn't be real.

The early morning wind shifted and a warm, ripening sweet smell hit his nose. So very afraid of what he would find, Clark stood and turned slowly. The carnage that greeted him was so much worse than he expected. A dozen cows lay dead, their hearts ripped from their bodies, the gray twilight turning the copious pools of blood, black in the field. Clark stumbled in shock towards the cow's little watering hole and waded up to his knees. He could see his wavering distorted reflection, and it sickened him. He was coated thickly in blood. It matted his hair, stiffened his shirt, and clotted in his eyelashes. He vomited into the water, brown and gray chunks of flesh, the remnants of those cows' hearts.

The crimson sun rising behind him, Clark scrubbed at the dried blood, submerging himself over and over in the murky water until it shared the stain of blood in its rosy tinge. "I'm sorry," he whispered over and over. Not able to bring himself to look back at what he'd done, Clark rested his head on his knees in the shallow water and sobbed uncontrollably. He was out of control, dangerous. He needed help. Someone had to be able to help him, to fix what had gone wrong in his brain that would make him do something so horrible.

Rising from his spot in the stagnant pool of water Clark wavered indecisively. He wanted to go home, to curl into his mother's arms and sob. He wanted to beg her to make it stop, make it better. Clark squeezed his hands into tight fists and shook his head. He wasn't five though, and he knew that his parents couldn't magically solve his every problem.

Going home wasn't an option anymore. What if it happened again? But this time it happened at home while he was acting the baby and crying to his mother. What if the voice came back and he killed his parents or Lana or Chloe or Pete? He couldn't go home, and he couldn't go to a hospital or a psychiatrist. How could he get help, when he was so damn unstoppable that he might murder anyone who tried to help him? Clark ran his hands back through his dripping hair and just screamed his frustration until his lungs ached.

Tired in his heart and mind, Clark bit back the sobs welling in him and took a slow step away, away from the carnage and the smell of his vomit. He took a step away from home and the horrible possibilities that awaited him there. The one mocking truth tormenting him, he needed help and there was no one and nowhere to go to for it.

* * *

"I can't believe Clark stayed out all night," Martha said. "I can't go to work not knowing what happened or where he was." She dropped into her seat at the kitchen table and aggressively buttered a piece of toast. "I swear he's trying to worry us to death."

Jonathan smirked and downed his cup of coffee. "Somehow I don't think Clark is maliciously trying to frazzle you or me. He's going to come wandering through that door in a couple of seconds apologizing. It's Clark, Martha."

"I don't doubt that, and I know, but it doesn't change the fact that he did this. What on earth is going on in his head?" Martha said. "He's acting like a teenager again."

"Scary isn't it," Jonathan said with a grin. The last time Clark had stayed out all night, he'd shown up the next morning, Lana in tow. That had been a shock, and Jonathan had almost thought he missed the chance to give his son the "responsible sex" speech. "Honestly, Clark is probably out brooding somewhere about the whole dream journal thing. It seems to be bothering him, so we just need to stick around and talk this out with him when he makes his appearance."

* * *

Walking forward with no destination except away, Clark moved through the woods._ I'm insane, a killer, out of control. _The malicious voice inside him was him... The reflection in his dream didn't lie. He was the killer, the insane one, and there was no one who could help him. No one was safe as long as he walked the Earth. Clark froze, that realization leaving him empty and terrified. If he wanted to keep everyone safe, he would have to end his life. He sank to his knees and laced his fingers into his hair, pressing at his skull and the brain that was betraying him. "I don't want to die." He didn't want to be responsible for killing anyone else either.

What if he lost control again and what if this time he didn't wake up? "I have to be strong here, not selfish." Clark rose and turned toward the old foundry, a place where he knew there were plenty of meteor rocks.

* * *

"HELL firE and DamNAtION! i sMEll suicIdE iN hIs BraiN," a faceless being lurking in the shadows hissed.

"you said he was a noble one from the beginning, master," a tiny voice replied. "twas a risk you accepted by choosing him, oh powerful one."

"ThE riTuaL hAs ComE tOO fAr Now. FAiluRe iS nO lonGer an OPtioN. i hAVe Too muCH cOmmITTed iN tHis veSSel tO aBandOn it fOr aNoTher," the voice shouted. Every word was harsh and brittle like breaking glass. "I waS So clOse toNiGht. I haD hIm. tHeN tHe suN roSe anD I loST hIm. thERE wAs an iNFLux of pUre eneRgY. i caN'T eXplaIN iT."

"the ritual has never taken so long in the past. only three nights and he should have been gone, depleted. yet you have struggled for months master. perhaps we should accept the loss and choose another?" the small subservient voice coaxed tentatively.

"I wiLL haVe hiM. hE belonGs to mE noW. EscAPing iNto DEATH? i wiLL nOt alloW iT."

* * *

Stifling a yawn politely, Lex settled back in his leather desk chair and listened to the nasal voice spouting figures from his speakerphone. "Thank you, Janet. Sell the Veratec, but hold onto the Nantec until it hits 35."

"Yes, Mr. Luthor."

Absently, Lex strummed his fingers over his desk and contemplated the little things in his life, like his new company LexCorp and the beginning of his father's fiscal humbling. It would be a slow process, but ultimately beautiful in its subtlety.

**"aLEXander LuTHoR, aT laSt we MeET in persOn. i hAve coMe tO knOW yOu throUGh tHE rOSe tinTED eyeS oF aN inNOCenT, buT yOu ARe noT wHAt hE sEEs. wE aRe brothers, dearEsT LEx. YOu i uNderStand."**

That voice, it was harsh and uneven with the rhythm and cadence of a car with two flat tires barreling down a highway. Always silver tongued and slick, Lionel would never sound like that, but Lex could almost swear it was a perversion of his father's voice he was hearing. "Who's there? How did you get in here?" Surreptitiously, he dropped a hand into his desk drawer and wrapped a hand around the heavy little gun sitting there.

A figure, barely shimmering in the shadows, moved forward into the dim lighting of Lex's study. He stood oddly, with his head bent forward, a full head of straight white hair blocking his face from view. The stranger's clothes, a simple black suit over a black silk shirt almost looked like something you would find in Lex's own closet. **"I HaVe cOme tO waRN yoU. YoUR FrIEnD, ClarK, iS in THe ProCeSS of a StupId, sTuPid dEcISioN. hE sEEks DEaTh. I hOpE yOU mIGHt KeeP HiM fRom suCH a RecKLess ChOIce."**

Lex came to his feet, hand still firmly placed on his gun. It was disturbingly typical. Clark seemed to attract crazies and mutants almost as well as his would-be girl Lana. "Clark isn't the suicide type," Lex said. "How exactly do you know him? Where did you get your information?"

The man looked up and allowed his hair to fall back from his face, or lack thereof. Where his face should have been, a travesty stared out, writhing cords of shimmering inky black maggots. **"i rEAd thE DEcisIOn iN HIs minD, wHilE I waS fEEdinG on hIs SOul." **

* * *

**Author's Note**

Phew, this is darker than usual for me, and kind of fast moving as well. I hope it doesn't disappoint. Thanks to the Debster who is actually looking over this one for me. Not seat of my pants with this one. 

Anyone who's also reading The Lost and wonders where that multi-chapter weekend went. I'll just say... I'm a big fat liar. sigh I was doing the family thing and writing sort of didn't happen like I thought it would. Who knew learning how to count cards with your dad could be so time consuming? 

Finally, thanks for all the reviews:) I print them out weekly and burn them as an offering to my muse, Megasponge. (Not really, but you enjoyed the image, didn't you ;) ) 


	4. A Pact

****

Chapter 4

Lex lifted the cool heavy hand gun and it extended it smoothly. Like a man who handles a gun daily he squeezed the trigger, one-two-three-four-five-six. The bullets hit the hideous black worms of his intruder's face. The only signs of their passing were transient holes that vanished almost as quickly as they formed. There were nine bullets still in his clip but Lex stopped firing. "Not even the courtesy to bleed? What are you?" 

** "I BeliEve You'LL finD yOUr FriENd at a pLace CalleD the FOUndrY. dO sAVe hiM fOr me." **

Lex could have sworn the thing grinned despite not having lips. Then it slipped back into the shadows. Smallville had quite typically slipped back into the Twilight Zone, and Clark appeared to be up to his neck in the latest mess. He really wasn't the suicide type, but when bizarre shadow hopping monsters were involved, it was best to play it safe. Lex hit his intercom. "Sylvia, I need an address on the nearest foundry, either operational or out of business." 

There was a brief delay before she replied. "I think Smallville had a foundry up until the meteor shower. The place was hit pretty hard, and they closed the doors. It will take a second, but I can pull the address." 

"Make it quick," Lex said. "It could be a matter of life or death." His eyes strayed to the corner of his office and the shadow that had swallowed his intruder. A fresh chill climbed his back. _ i rEAd thE DEcisIOn iN HIs minD, wHilE I waS fEEdinG on hIs SOul. _What the Hell had Clark gotten himself into this time. "Clear my calendar for the day, and call me on the cell phone when you have the address." 

* * *

Martha watched Jonathan move around the kitchen, grabbing up his keys and coat. He met her nervous gaze and smiled reassuringly. "What's the game plan," he said. 

"You're going to cruise the spread. I'm going to call everyone we know," Martha said. She met Jonathan's earnest blue eyes and let his strength wash against her worry. He always made her feel like a rock, solid and in control. She sometimes wondered if he drew the same strength from her. "Clark's fine isn't he." 

_I hope so._ "Of course he is," Jonathan said. "There isn't any reason to panic." 

Martha didn't wait to watch Jonathan leave. She headed to the kitchen phone to get started with her half of the "game plan". Her hand was just over the receiver when the phone rang. Martha jumped and threw her hand over her heart. "Clark..." It had to be him. She snatched up the phone. "Hello." 

"Mrs. Kent, it's Lex. I need to speak with Clark. It's an emergency." 

"I'm sorry. Clark's not here." She hoped that Lex couldn't hear the disappointment in her voice. She been so sure it was Clark. Well, at least this was one call she wouldn't have to make. "Jonathan and I are actually trying to locate Clark. Have you seen him recently?" 

Lex grimaced and mashed the accelerator to the floor. That was not a good sign. There was no reason to panic Mrs. Kent with tales about shadow monsters, yet. She'd probably just think he was insane and seeing things. "Sorry Mrs. Kent, I haven't seen Clark in days. Is anything wrong?" 

"No, just your typical teenage mini-rebellion, I think. He didn't come home last night." The lie didn't ring true in Martha's ears. It would be so much easier if that statement was a little more plausible, but Clark just wasn't the type, except when under the influence of mood altering rocks. 

Typical and Clark, two words that were never meant to coexist in a sentence. "I'll let him know that he's in deep trouble if I see him. Have him give me a call if he comes home." Lex clicked his phone shut. "Here's hoping I don't see him, at least not at this foundry." 

* * *

Dark and damp, the foundry was a perfect playhouse, at least that's what Pete and Greg thought when they were kids. There were places to climb and hide. There was mud to build with. Clark generally agreed with their assessment, except for the fact that he always got sick sooner or later. Now he understood where that childhood weakness came from. He understood it, and he was ready to use it. 

Clark paused outside the entrance to the old factory and leaned against the rusty doorframe. "I can't do this. I don't want to die. It would kill mom and dad. They'll never understand." He stepped away from the wall and his suicide plan. But what if it came back again... Clark could still remember what the blood had tasted like, how the metallic tang had lingered. The image of the dead people in his dreams, their empty chests, still lingered in his mind's eye. He pulled out his dream journal, now missing its cover and the pages his mother had tried to reattach. 

With a shaking hand, Clark tried to put into words, the reason he was about to walk into the foundry and cuddle up with the closest meteor rock. 

** yoU doN't want TO dO tHis. dEAth is QuitE peRmanenT. **

Clark felt the pencil crush under his suddenly tense hand. "I'm not going to hurt anyone. I'm not. I'll do what it takes to stop you, me." Stepping inside the foundry, into the dark, Clark suddenly felt weaker, sleepy. He stumbled to the nearest pile of rubble and started digging until he was rewarded by a cascade of glowing green rocks. 

Gritting his teeth against the waves of pain those rocks provoked, Clark shoved a couple of the stones into his jeans pockets. 

yoU aRe a DAmn FooL. You'RE killiNG mY cHOSen VESSEL. mY veSSel. 

Clark could hear the voice and its angry protestations. Tears were leaking from his eyes, and he gritted his teeth against the self-inflicted agony that was ripping him apart at the cellular level. "MY vessel," Clark hissed. "My choice." 

* * *

Brutally violent, grotesque, Jonathan couldn't find the right adjective for the mutilated cows he found in the south pasture. The flies and buzzards were already at work, and the animals' bodies were beginning to bloat in the warm morning air. Jonathan stepped into the carnage, one thought running through his head. Anything that could take down an entire herd of cattle before the majority stampeded out of danger was formidable. Anything that would do this probably wouldn't think twice about attacking a kid like Clark. 

Jonathan could see Clark facing the unknown monster, defending the cows. What if he was hurt? What if he was lying in this field somewhere? He started running, scanning for anything that might be Clark. "Clark!" Jonathan called. He screamed again and again at the top of his lungs. 

His voice broke, and Jonathan dropped to one knee, trying to catch his breath. In a puddle of drying blood, a pink-stained spiral notebook cover stared up at him - an innocent little thing that just didn't belong here. He reached down and traced the two words on the warped paper, Dream Journal. Clark had been here, most likely faced whatever did this. 

But where was he now? 

New urgency filled him, and Jonathan headed back to the truck. He needed to check in with Martha. Hopefully she'd found Clark and he was worrying for nothing. Besides, it was time to call the police. Whatever had started this wasn't going to get away with the mutilation of those cows. It most definitely was going to answer to the whereabouts of his son. 

* * *

The access road to the old foundry was overgrown with brambles and honeysuckle. If Sylvia hadn't come up with a detailed set of directions, Lex never would have found the turn. As it was, he'd had to abandon his car a hundred feet back from the actual building. The place looked like the kind of place you'd shoot a B class horror flick. Was it possible that Clark was in there doing himself harm? 

Lex made his way through the door, blinking at the shadows until he could see properly. "Clark? Anyone here?" Lex coughed against the thick moldy smell of the air and took a couple of steps in. This was crazy. Clark wasn't... 

Lex saw the blue flannel first. Sprawled in a pile of glowing meteor rocks, Clark was lying motionless. "Jesus." This was not happening. Suicide? Lex rushed over to his friend's side. No blood, no blood anywhere... Lex ran his hands over Clark looking for a wound. "Wake up, Clark." Lex shook at Clark's shoulders. "Wake up and tell me what you took, you stupid son of a... Clark." 

Clark winced at the voice pulling him back from the oblivion that freed him from pain. He could see Lex over him, yelling at him, shaking him. How had Lex found him? God it hurt, like a thousand microscopic needles were piercing his every cell. "I don't want to die," Clark whispered. 

"Tell me what you took. You'll be okay," Lex said. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911. "No signal." He had taken two steps toward the exit before the multitude of shadows gave him pause. The thing, Maggot-face, liked shadows. Leaving Clark in here alone wasn't a viable option. "Can you walk? If I help you, can you walk?" 

Clark couldn't find the breath to answer. The air was too thick, suffocating. Lex didn't understand what was killing him. He didn't know how to help. Maybe it was better that way. Clark had chickened out in his heart, but Lex didn't know how to stop what he'd started. 

"I'm going to have to drag you, buddy. Help if you can." Lex tossed his tailored Italian jacket into the dirt and hooked his hands under Clark's armpits. "You're going to be fine." 

Lex managed a slow jarring shuffle over the uneven foundry floor. Once out in the sun, he dropped to the ground next to Clark. "Stay with me. I'm calling the ambulance." 

** "hE doeSn't nEEd an AmbulaNce. FisH thE roCKS oUt oF his POckeTs aNd he'LL bE jUst fine. ODD tHat ROckS hUrt hiM SO." **

Lex scanned the clearing, trying to locate the owner of the voice. "Keep your distance," Lex called. He pulled out his gun and extended it toward the empty woods. Sure the gun hadn't helped last time, but it was all Lex had for defense. 

** "i'LL seE yOu thiS EveNing geNtlemeN." **

Lex waited tensely for several seconds, but the voice appeared to be gone. He replaced the gun in his pocket and turned back to Clark. As of yet, maggot-face hadn't lied about a thing. Instead of immediately calling the ambulance, he reached into Clark's pocket and pulled out a glowing green meteor rock. His hand was trembling just slightly and he dropped the stone. It landed on Clark's arm. The skin grayed and twitched under the rock. Clark's veins darkened until they were almost black and bulged under his skin. Lex snatched the meteor rock away. 

Quickly, he went through Clark's pockets removing the meteor rocks as he went. Then, one by one he threw them back through the foundry's entrance. It was amazing how quickly Clark recovered. His skin went from gray back to his normal tan and his breaths lengthened and quieted. For the first time since Lex had found him, Clark met his eyes. "Why did you do it? You saved my life." 

"Why did I do it? Why did you do it? You just tried to kill yourself with meteor rocks, not a gun or a noose or even a bottle of pills. Hell, you tried to KILL yourself. What's going on in your head?" 

Clark laughed hollowly and pushed himself into a sitting position. "It's really funny, but I've always been deathly allergic to meteor rocks. It seemed like a nice quiet out of the way method to..." 

Clark's odd allergy to meteor rocks didn't distract Lex from the important part of what was being said. "To kill yourself," Lex snapped. "Suicide is cowardly, Clark. It's cowardly and selfish. Can you even imagine what would have happened to your parents if you succeeded? What about your friends, me, Chloe, Pete?" 

"I did it for them. If I don't do something, I'm gonna hurt someone, maybe you or mom or dad, maybe the whole damn town. I'm going crazy Lex. This is me, teetering on the edge of insanity. If you could just hear the voice that's been ringing inside my head, you'd understand," Clark half-yelled. Tears had stared to slip down his cheeks and he looked away from Lex's disapproving stare. 

Maggot-face, Lex reminded himself. Clark wasn't acting out of his own motivations. That thing had him convinced he was some kind of menace to society. "I don't know what's going on inside your brain, but it didn't originate there. You see, I know about your boogey-man. He paid me a visit this morning." 

"That's not possible. I'm the only one who can hear him," Clark whispered. 

"How do you think I found you? This boogey-man wants to keep you alive. There has to be a better way to beat him, than suicide, okay," Lex said. "Let me help you." 

God, it felt good to share this burden with someone, and have that person validate your story, assure you that you weren't crazy. Clark had never wanted anyone to be right more than he wanted Lex to be in that moment. "I'll try to fight him, and I'll let you help, but you have to take a meteor rock and you have to keep it with you for protection, okay?" 

Lex patted the gun in his pocket and shook his head. "Protection? They make you that sick? If it will make you feel better, I'll take one, but you aren't going to hurt me Clark. You're going to beat this." 

"If I don't beat this, whatever it is. You can't let him win. Lex, promise you won't let him use me to hurt anyone. Swear it." 

"I won't let him win, Clark. I swear." 

** Author's Note:**

Dark fics are such fun. **grin** As always, be brutal, be honest. Tell me what you think. 

If you aren't reading The Lost and you haven't heard my long winded, hello-I-missed-you-guys, then let me just say it succinctly. It's good to be back in the saddle. I missed this place :) 

The new computer is a champ. I already bought him a sticker and I'm leaning toward the name Buzz. (I name everything... well maybe not everything but many things.) 


	5. Drowning

** Chapter 5**

Like a dam crumbling under too much pressure, Clark poured out his story to Lex. He told him about the progressively ugly nightmares. He told him about the shadow voice and its excursion into Clark's reality... He told him about the cows. "I woke up with the taste of those cows' hearts in my mouth, Lex. I was covered in their blood. If you're telling me that the shadow voice isn't part of me, that it isn't me, I want to believe it. What if you're wrong though?" 

Lex didn't flinch once, even when Clark was recounting excerpts from his most nightmarish dreams. If it were just the dreams, Lex would have been able to relate. Nightmares were a language he understood. But then came the description of the cow massacre, not a dream. It was so bizarre that it was almost comical, except it wasn't. "And you've never actually seen the face behind this voice?" 

"I saw my own face covered in blood." Clark stared down at his lap and his deceptively clean hands. He held them up for Lex to see. "I saw the blood on my hands." 

"Clark, I saw him. It wasn't you, okay. Maybe he possessed you, or whatever he does, but it wasn't you, not really," Lex said. "Trust me." 

"So it wasn't me. Thank God. What do we do about it?" Clark said. 

"First, you call your parents and tell them you're okay, not where you are, but let them know you're alive," Lex said. He tossed Clark his cell phone. "They're worried." 

* * *

Martha sat and listened to Jonathan on the phone. He was calling the police about their cows, again. Something, not poison this time, killed the lot of them, and Clark was there. She stared at the warped and stained little piece of cardboard that had proven Clark's attendance to the bovine massacre. Where could he have gotten off to? Was he hurt maybe? He would have come home if he could. He... 

"Martha, the police are on their way," Jonathan said. A couple of tears had slipped down Martha's cheeks and she nodded to him. "Hey, stop that. This is Clark. He isn't easy to hurt. He's probably following whatever got the cows, so that it can't cause any more trouble."_ But he isn't invincible and he doesn't always know when to quit. _

The phone rang, stopping short any response Martha might have offered. "I've got it," she said. "It's probably Clark." Jonathan nodded and followed her to the phone. "Hello?" 

"Mom." 

Martha grabbed Jonathan's arm and nodded enthusiastically. She'd never been more happy to hear that word. "Clark Kent, I don't know where you've been or what happened, but you just about worried us to death. Are you okay? Did the thing that attacked the cows hurt you?" 

Clark almost dropped Lex's cell phone, when his mother asked about the cows. Of course they wouldn't assume it was him that attacked the cows, but how did they know he was anywhere near the incident. "I'm fine, Mom. I didn't mean to worry you. I'll be home... First I have to take care of the thing that got the cows. Can't talk right now, okay?" 

"No, you need to come home now," Martha said. "Clark? Clark!" She tossed the phone at Jonathan. "He hung up. I can't believe he just hung up." 

"Where is he?" Jonathan asked. "If he isn't coming home, we'll go fetch him." 

"I don't know. He didn't say, and he sounded odd, Jonathan. I don't like this." 

* * *

Clark stared at the closed cell phone for a long moment. "First time I ever hung up on my mom. What now?" 

Lex snorted and shrugged. "Excellent question. The thing seems to strike when you're sleeping, always at night. It likes shadows and you unconscious. We deny it both. Let's get some stimulants into your system and I want you in the solarium until dusk. Then we'll relocate to the ballroom. It has the best lighting." 

Clark nodded and followed Lex from the room. "Sounds like a good short term plan, but what about the long run? How are we supposed to beat this thing? We don't even know what it is or what it can do. I haven't even seen it. You're sure that isn't just me?" 

Lex paused and gave Clark a long skeptical look. "I'm no farm boy, so correct me if I'm wrong, but even if it was just you and you were just going crazy, how could you take down an entire herd of cattle. Cows are big, and they like to trample people who tear their hearts out, don't they?" 

_"That logic doesn't work," _Clark wanted to say. He would have liked to have pointed out that a herd of cattle didn't stand a chance against him, but Lex had no idea what his good buddy was capable of. "Where's the meteor rock I told you to keep? If I lose my mind, you'll need it." 

Clark hadn't agreed with him about the cow killing? He just tried to make sure Lex ad kept the safety-meteor-rock close. "That's an odd allergy, you know. Why is it that I'm just now finding out about it?" 

"Because it's odd like you said, and my parents thought I'd be better off not being poked and prodded by every meteor enthusiast who wandered through town," Clark said. "It's just a stupid allergy." He headed past Lex into the solarium, a circular room awash in sunlight streaming through floor to ceiling windows and an intricately patterned skylight. 

"Fine, I suppose I can understand that..." _ If you had something else to hide... _ "We can talk about it later. I need to see about some No Doze for you anyway." 

The sun danced over Clark's face and hands. He almost felt safe here. "Thank you, Lex. You saved my life." _ I hope you don't live to regret it._

* * *

Brow furrowed and arms crossed, Chloe looked like she wanted to hurt something. She was staring at a notebook and thrumming her pencil rapidly over the binding. Pete approached cautiously, taking the seat opposite her. "Okay girl, what is causing that face? I didn't do anything did I?" 

Chloe looked up and rolled her eyes. "You did nothing. I was just brutally violated by a geometry test. I hope Clark is on top of our golf hole design, because I need a good grade on that thing. Not that I'm taking advantage of him. I'm going to help. I'll glue when told to glue and nail when asked to nail." 

"Clark's pretty dependable. I wouldn't worry too much," Pete said. "Have you seen him today? He missed first period." 

"Actually no, he wasn't in geometry either. I guess my journalistic observational skills are more acute than anyone realized. I knew that boy was looking a little under the weather. He's probably out sick," Chloe said. "I just know he aced the test we got back today. I bet he would tutor me in this garbage if I asked." 

"Probably to both." Well that was half-true. Clark would definitely tutor if asked, but there was no way he was out sick. Abstractly, Pete wondered why Clark was skipping today. Since becoming one of the inner-circle on the alien secret, Clark usually kept him up to date on things. It probably wasn't a big deal and Pete didn't dwell on the absence. He craned his neck across the picnic table. "What's in that lunch bag?" 

Chloe pulled her lunch an inch closer and shook her head. "No trading today. Can you say roast beef?" 

* * *

Clark passed the day following his suicide attempt mostly alone, watching the sun move across the sky, and just thinking. Occasionally Lex would pop his head in to ask for a detail about the shadow-voice or to make sure Clark was taking the Vivarin on schedule. Eventually, Lex was going to show up with a doctor who would want blood and x-rays, and a hundred things that Clark couldn't let him have. That was a bridge he would have to cross when he came to it. Right now, calmly watching the sun make it's trek across the sky seemed to be all Clark was capable of. 

The sun was getting heavy and red, dipping down behind the tree line. The shadows in the solarium were stretching out warning of the evening. A shiver raced up Clark's arms, and he wished there was a way to push the sun back up in the sky. 

"You look like you'd like to fight the dying of that light," Lex said. "You're going to be fine. I do think we should relocate to the ballroom, and you should think about calling your parents again." 

"They're probably pretty worried," Clark said. Lex was waiting for him, but Clark didn't move. "What am I supposed to say to them after what I've done? I didn't know what to say this morning, and I don't know now." 

"It isn't what you say in this situation. Let them know you're alive by hearing your voice. Unlike some parents I know, the fact that you're alive and relatively well, should be a minor relief to them." Lex gestured at the door, and this time Clark followed. 

The ballroom was almost like an artificial reenactment of the glow in the solarium. The multitude of lights built on themselves reflecting in the wall mirrors. An uneasy chill raced up Clark's spine. This room was decidedly less comforting than the solarium. Maybe it was the mirrors. Clark could remember seeing himself in the mirror of his dreams. He could remember the evil grinning thing wearing his face. "You don't have your meteor rock, Lex. I can tell. Where is it?" 

"It's in my office," Lex said. "Don't worry. You're so full of stimulant that there isn't any reason for it. You are not falling asleep." 

Clark imagined he could see the sun outside these walls, sinking inexorably behind the horizon. "Go get it Lex, and until the sun comes up tomorrow, don't set it down. You promised me." 

"Fine, I'll be back in a few minutes and we'll go over what I found out today." Lex hated to leave Clark alone right now. He was too scared and pale and quiet. He had promised to keep the rock close though, and it wasn't like anything was going to happen after all their precautions. 

If Lex was reluctant to leave Clark alone, Clark was at least twice as unhappy about being left alone, alone with the mirrors and without the sun. 

** deATH wOUld haVe bEEn a miSTakE. **

It was here then. The Demon was back into his reality. Clark started spinning, looking for the thing Lex had described as maggot-face. There weren't any shadows though. Lex said it liked shadows. 

** i am NOT In tHE shAdOws of tHE rOOm. LooK inTo tHe mIrrOr, clARk. gET yOUr fIRST rEal lOOk aT tHe neW Me. **

_ Don't look. Can't look... _ The mirrors were everywhere though, the walls, the ceiling, the floor. The reflections were walking forward, they were all grinning. Despite the stimulants, Clark felt a deep exhaustion wash through him. His eyelids felt too heavy. "No, I won't fall asleep this time. Go away!" With a determined grit of his teeth, Clark forced his eyes to stay open. It meant he had to keep staring at the mocking reflections, but it also meant he retained control. 

Like a pebble in a still pond the mirrors rippled and the twisted reflections stepped from behind their glass. Clark felt a hand from the mirrored floor clutching his leg, tearing at him, pulling him down. "I must have fallen asleep," Clark hissed. "Help me!" The other reflections swarmed over him, pushing him down stomping at his face, laughing at his efforts to keep his head above the now liquid glass. 

And then there was silence. Clark felt cold and detached as though he were encased in ice. He could see the ballroom from the cold place. The many reflections had vanished. Only one remained, kneeing in the center of the room. A shrill sound broke through the silence, a laugh, pure hysteria... or maybe insanity. 

* * *

Lex tossed the little piece of meteor rock Clark had insisted on and caught it casually. He shoved the rock in his pocket, hoping it wouldn't make Clark too sick. He seemed pretty sensitive to the things. Lex pushed the door to the ballroom open, and he froze. Half the lights were gone, shattered, and Clark was making quick work of the others. "What the Hell are you doing?" 

Clark broke away from his project and turned to Lex. ** "TOO brIGHT. hOw aM i tO medITaTE wiTH so muCh distRActinG iLLumiNAtioN?"**

Lex's heart sped up as adrenaline hit his system. That ugly halting voice was unmistakable. "Clark? Are you still in there, Clark?" Lex said. "You have to keep fighting this. Can you hear me?" 

** "I hEAr yoU," **the demon practically sang. **"sAvE yOur eFForT. clArk iS gOne, foR gOOd tHis tIme."**

* * *

** Author's Note:**

Well, I made an observation to my roommate today... Everyone gets to be in on the inner circle of Clark's secrets in my stories at one point or another except Lex. Now, this isn't a Lex finds out Clark's secret fic, but it is a Lex and Clark share an important secret fic. Instead of being the excluded, Lex is the only confidant. **happy grin** 

As for the question, will this be as long as the Lost? God no. If this story takes over 100 pages I'll be shocked beyond belief. 


	6. Sibling Rivalry

** Chapter 6 **

It was a strange sight, Clark grinning like that. That grin said, I kill things and eat their hearts because I can, because I like it. "What the Hell are you? Why are you doing this? Clark is just a kid," Lex said. 

** "wAs a kiD. hE's NOthinG noW. I fiNaLLy dEvOUrED hiM." **

The thing wearing Clark stretched his arms out as if adjusting the fit of his new body. Lex flinched but didn't look away. He could almost see a rippled of something black and dead under Clark's cheek. He could almost see maggot-face. 

Clark's shadow shimmered, and a new being stepped out. It was a little girl with long black hair and pale ghost skin. She touched Clark's hand briefly and made a disgusted face. She started wiping her hand on the trail of her little white dress as though something truly nasty were clinging to it. 

"i will return in the morning. be ready to settle things then, yes?" the girl said. Her voice was like a whisper of wind that only hinted at sound. She walked away a step and waited. 

** "i wiLL bE rEAdy. thiS veSSel Is eXcePTional." ** Lex couldn't tell how he did it, but the thing inside Clark looked at the other light fixtures and shattered them.** "huRRy baCk deaR liTTle oNe. hurrY."**

The little girl nodded. She spun on her heel and walked right up to Lex. "well sir, i don't think you'll do," she said. 

Lex stepped back trying to keep an eye on both the girl and Clark. "What do you mean I won't do?" 

The girl's expression registered shock, and she stepped from side to side, all the while watching Lex's gaze follow her. "i mean you won't do as my vessel, but more importantly, you can see me? how is that possible? i know for a fact you could see the other, my brother." The girl cocked her head to the side and examined Lex speculatively. "what an odd creature you must be." 

"What are you? What's going on here?" Lex asked. He dropped down to one knee and stared into this little girl's eyes. The illusion of youth didn't extend to those eyes. They were deep and fathomless like bottomless pools of inky blackness. "You aren't the same as him, as maggot-face. Will you help me help Clark?" 

"of course i'm not the same. i am the light, the life, the bliss, the question you're born asking. my brother is the opposite, the dark, the pain, the answer to my question." The little girl smiled thinly. "enough explanation?" 

"You call that an explanation. It sounds like you think you're a God," Lex said. "You don't look like a God to me." 

"and you sound as though you would really know a god if you saw one. neither i nor my brother is a god, just living beings, going through the motions that make up our lives. this is the fiftieth confrontation with my brother. the planet was chosen randomly, the first vessel is chosen by the winner of the last confrontation. the details are actually quite tiresome. pardon my curiosity, but out of fifty planets and hundreds of thousands of sentient beings you are the first to not only see me, but you saw my brother as well. i guess it just goes to show you, the distance between a saint and a madman might only be a knife's edge." 

"What the Hell is that supposed to mean? Me seeing you is strange and unusual? Why? Why the fighting? What is this happening?" Lex grabbed the little girl by the shoulder, half expecting his hand to pass through her. But she was solid, real. Her skin felt soft and supple like an infant's. 

"most beings live in a field of gray. they never see the extremes, the light where i live or the dark where my brother plays. your friend, clark, never saw his tormentor because he couldn't see the dark spectrum from his place in that field of gray. it took months of work before he even heard my brother. i suspect your friend strays closer to my side of the field of gray than most. it makes it doubly sad that he was taken by my brother, doesn't it." 

Lex wasn't sure whether his ability to see the light and the dark damned him or saved him. Was he the saint or the madman? This wasn't a moment to contemplate his own soul. Clark was being destroyed by the darkness while he pondered his own salvation. "If you're the light and he's the dark, you can save Clark, can't you? When you win, Clark will be okay?" 

"an interesting theory, especially considering the trouble my brother had with him. your friend isn't gone you know. my brother likes to obliterate the soul before he takes control. a soul is light and it weakens him, but he couldn't stamp clark's out. i hope to use that weakness to my advantage." 

"And if you win, he'll be okay," Lex prompted. 

"i'm not sure. you see, i have never won." 

* * *

A literature book, open to Julius Caesar served as a makeshift pillow for Chloe. Gentle, barely audible snores were rising from her lips. Lana smiled sympathetically and cleared her throat in the bedroom doorway. Almost immediately, Chloe lifted her head and groggily blinked the sleep out of her eyes. "I was just resting my eyes for a second," she yawned. 

"I can see that. My only question, does the osmosis method really work, because reading Shakespeare isn't doing it for me," Lana said. "Mrs. Simmons is kind of brutal about it all." 

"Tell me about it. I have to recite Anthony's monologue tomorrow. I expect you to keep a straight face and if Pete looks like he's going to laugh, kick him for me, okay?" Chloe snapped the book shut. "I'm going to guess a literature discussion didn't bring you around, so what's up?" 

"Actually, that was Mrs. Kent on the phone for the third time tonight. She's trying to find Clark. Apparently he's AWOL, and I promised to wake you up and ask if you'd seen him," Lana said. It was odd how close she felt to Chloe at times, but one mention of Clark and there was a distance between them, a distrust. "So, I told her you hadn't been anywhere all night, but she sounded worried." 

Chloe shrugged and shook her head. "I figured Clark was sick today since he didn't make it to school. I haven't seen him. I hope everything is okay." Internally she sighed. Clark never let her in on things. They were supposed to be friends, but he thought it was okay to do his thing, use her for a reference library, and ignore everything else. This was just another instance of Chloe exclusion. 

"That's what I figured. I'm sure Clark's fine. He's probably off rescuing a kitten or something. Riding to the rescue seems to be the only thing he does consistently well," Lana said. "Sorry for disturbing the osmosis." 

Chloe nodded. It was hard to ignore the bitterness in Lana's voice, especially when she understood it so well. "Goodnight." 

* * *

"Fifty tries and you've never won?" Lex hissed. "What will happen if he wins?" 

"a bit of death, a bit of destruction, occasionally he has completely destroyed a planet, not often though. The vessel usually gives out first," the girl said. She shrugged Lex's hand off her shoulder and waved. "i must choose a vessel with which to face my brother. worry not, I have a plan." 

With that the girl vanished. Lex rocked back and came to his feet. "Not good." Even if he chose to believe what that thing was spouting, she apparently wasn't very good at this confrontation scenario. He had promised Clark that he wouldn't let this thing win. Maggot-face was sitting with his head resting against one of the walls and he was staring vacantly up. "Clark, are you in there? Can you hear me? I need you to look alive, fight this." 

Jerkily like a puppet on a string, Clark's head lolled forward and the hungry grin was back. This time Lex couldn't help himself, he looked away. **"DoN't woRRy, LEX. I wOn't Kill yoU wHen thE tiMe **cOmes. I like you, brother." 

"Clark," Lex whispered. "I didn't just imagine that. You're really still there. Don't let this son of a bitch use you like this. You're stronger than him. I heard you." 

** "YoU heaRd a shAdoW, a fLicKer. stOp wAstinG mY tiMe aNd yOurs. i nEEd tO reSt, aCCusTom mYself witH this veSSel. It woULd be emBarrassiNg tO noT compLETELY destrOy mY littlE sIster."**

Lex wrapped his hand around the little piece of meteor rock in his pocket. Maggot-face was bullet-proof before possessing Clark. Maybe if he got creative, and Maggot-face had gained Clark's allergy, the bullet-proof problem could be solved. If worse came to worse, he could fight this thing, but there were still so many maybes. "Your little sister might surprise you this time, and if she doesn't, you'll have to deal with me." 

Lex backed slowly toward the door. Leaving that thing alone wasn't a terribly appealing option, but he couldn't exactly get anything done while standing over it. Stepping into the soft light of the hallway, Lex closed the double doors behind him. He snapped open his cell phone and dialed as best he could with a shaking hand. "Andre, I need a guard on the ballroom five minutes ago. I want to know if there's a peep from inside, but tell your men not to go in under any circumstances, understand?" 

Lex tapped the phone on his hand nervously. What should he do first? Clark's parents were probably climbing the walls by now. He'd have to do something to put them off. Inviting them over to help didn't seem like a good idea. Maggot-face might like him, but it would probably enjoy eating a nice wholesome Kent alive. 

* * *

"Twenty-four hours, Jon," Martha said. She was sitting too straight in her kitchen chair, and her arms were crossed over her chest defensively. "Clark walked out of that door twenty-four hours ago. I don't care if he called this morning, something is wrong. Something happened to him." 

Jonathan set his coffee cup down none too gently and spun at Martha. "Do you see me arguing with you? I agree. What do you want me to do? The police are investigating whatever attacked the cows." 

"They're investigating it while Clark fights it," Martha snapped. "I hate this. What was he thinking, Jonathan? Does he have to keep putting his neck out like this?" 

The kitchen phone cut Martha off mid tirade. Jonathan internally thanked whoever was calling (hopefully Clark). This was close to turning into an unpleasant fight. Martha had been snapping at him since he walked through the door with the tattered little notebook cover. It was a stressful situation, but it wasn't like her to be so challenging and abrasive. "I've got it," Jonathan said. "Hello." 

At the other end of the line, Lex hesitated. What the Hell was he supposed to say? Hi, your son isn't really missing. He's possessed and hanging out in my ballroom. So don't worry. I'm taking care of things. "Mr. Kent, I apologize for calling so late. Could I speak with Clark by any chance?" 

Jonathan shook his head at Martha. It wasn't Clark. "Sorry Lex, Clark isn't available at the moment. Have you seen him today by any chance?" 

Lex sighed at the half-truth bit of omission on Jonathan's part. It was just as well considering the amount of omission he was planning. "Actually, I saw him right around sunset, why?" 

Jonathan perked up at that. So Clark was fine an hour ago? He'd probably be home soon. "Was he on his way home?" 

"I don't really know. He didn't say goodbye, just left. Have him give me a call when he gets home." Lex snapped his phone shut. That should be enough to keep the Kent's from panicking too much for a little while. Lex threw his neat little phone at the wall, but it's pitiful shattering did nothing to assuage the frustration building in him. 

* * *

** Author's Note:**

Nothing much coming to mind that I need to say this week. Hope the chapter doesn't disappoint. All comments and criticisms are welcome as always. :) 

I hope everybody had a great Valentines Day. Peace! 


	7. To Sleep Perchance to Dream

** Chapter 7 **

**To Sleep Perchance to Dream **

Unseen or sensed by anyone, little sister with the black hair and the ancient eyes, surveyed Smallville from above. She saw no need to change forms from the one created by Lex's perception. It wasn't likely that anyone else would see her, and if they did their minds would come up with their own way to quantify her. Tonight she had to choose a champion, a vessel for her fight. This endeavor wouldn't take nearly as long as her brother's selection. She never removed the soul of her vessels. The light in them only strengthened her. Unfortunately, it had never been sufficient for her to actually win. 

This confrontation would be different. Big brother had a soul bouncing around in there with him, and if she was smart about this, that soul might turn the tide for her. Selecting a vessel was instinctive, and her instincts said one thing: there was no vessel to match her brother's choice on this world. Instead of matching him, she would have to be smart about this, choose a vessel that would stir the dormant soul, Clark. Then she would maybe get a chance to use the information she'd gained from the protracted possession her brother had struggled through. The vessel he had chosen was strong and fast, but it had weaknesses. 

Little sister didn't hesitate long. From Clark's dreams, she knew there were only two choices, and if she was to decide tonight, she would need to visit them both. 

* * *

__

ID pictures weren't ever supposed to look good but this one did. Chloe Sullivan, member of the press, she looked older, sexier, and smarter in that little photo. With a self-satisfied sigh, Chloe clipped her press pass to the lapel of her smart little olive-green skirt suit, and made her way onto the main floor of the Daily Planet. Other reporters, all young and fiery, were dressed in their own neat suits and working at their own desks. 

One of the more central desks bore the name plate, Chloe Sullivan, and that's where she took her seat. An edition of the Daily Planet was sitting on the top of the desk. In giant three inch font the headline read, Meteorites: the Genetic Catastrophe, a Daily Planet exclusive by Chloe Sullivan. 

"Chloe, this just came up from the editor. He told me to run it right over." 

It was Clark, still perfectly muscular and handsome with the chiseled features and the kind eyes, he was offering her a sheaf of papers. Unlike the reporters on the floor, Clark was wearing a simple short-sleeved white button-up shirt that conformed perfectly to his torso. 

"How's life in the classifieds?" Chloe asked. "You think you'll make the floor this year? You're being wasted down their in no talent land." 

Clark shrugged and set the papers on her desk. "I still have a lot to learn. Have you reconsidered dinner? We could talk about your last exclusive and things." He caressed her face and rubbed his thumb across her chin affectionately. His hands were still slightly rough from a childhood bailing hay and driving fence posts. "You work too much. I never see you." 

"Are you kidding you see me every night." Chloe grinned seductively and pulled Clark closer. "I'm going to kiss you." 

"but do you love him?" 

__

Chloe froze half-way to Clark's lips. He frowned at her for stopping but she shushed him. The press room was no longer full of hard-working reporters. It stood empty and silent. So who had spoken? "Is someone there?" 

"and does he love you? i haven't the time to dawdle, to live through your little fantasy. is it love you feel, or should I move on?" 

__

"Clark, who is that?" Chloe asked. "You do hear that?" 

Clark had taken a step back and he was staring into her eyes. "Do you love me? You told me that we weren't meant to be together, that we were just friends. How could you love me when you pushed me away?" 

Chloe flinched and shook her head. This wasn't supposed to play like this. "You have to learn that people don't always mean what they say. I was scared and hurt. You just believed me?" 

"I don't read people's minds, and you haven't said you love me. You don't do you," Clark said. He turned and started walking away. 

"I don't know. We're friends and that's safe. I won't lose you if we stay friends." Instead of the Daily Planet, the room had shifted into the office of the Torch. "Clark, just stop, listen." The door to the office slipped shut sealing him away from her. God, why did he always leave? Chloe thought she saw something moving out of the corner of her eye but when she spun it wasn't there. 

"good luck Chloe, but you can't help me." 

* * *

Sitting up in bed, it took Chloe a minute to catch her breath. What a freaky dream that had been? It was similar to other dreams she'd had up until the third party butted in and ruined the mood. Chloe tried lying back down and recapturing her dream at the good part, but her head was buzzing like she'd had too much caffeine. Chloe swung her legs over the side of the bed and shoved her feet into her fuzzy orange house shoes. On her way out, she shrugged into her robe. "Need warm milk." 

* * *

__

There is nothing in the world like galloping a horse. When you're riding in synch with the animal, you leave the earth behind and you fly. Lana leaned forward clutching the mane of her first horse, a fast little palomino, Fiona. They were riding through fields of wild spring flowers, purple, pink, yellow. The smell was sweet and wet, like rain might fall at any second. Lana cried out her joy and urged Fiona faster. 

A fat frigidly cold drop of rain struck her on the head, and Lana pulled Fiona back. They should go home. Fiona died of pneumonitis when she was just seven. The rain was going to make her sick. "I'll get you home," Lana whispered. 

The rain was falling in torrential sheets before they made it back to the barn, and Lana was weeping. She tried to cover Fiona with her body, to block away the death bringing rain. "I'm sorry." Lana put Fiona into her stall, but it was too late. She could feel the heat in Fiona's neck and see the sag of her head. Lana shivered in her soggy clothes and turned away. 

"Don't cry." 

He was there. Clark was standing in the rain staring at her. He looked so pitiful and alone with the cold water running over his face and dripping off his fingertips, but Lana didn't invite him in. "Why are you here, Clark? I didn't ask for you to come. You don't get to rescue me from this, from anything." 

"I don't want you to hurt." Clark took a step forward, for the safety and warmth of the barn. 

If he came close, she might forget why he wasn't right for her, why she couldn't completely trust him. "No," Lana whispered. "You can't come in." 

Clark stopped but he kept staring. "If I told you the truth, you'd let me in." 

"If you told me the truth, we could trust each other, but you can't tell me. You don't trust me." The barn was gone in an instant and they were being whipped by the winds of a violent storm. "I don't know how you did it, how you came through that storm and put yourself between me and death. I know you did it. I can't thank you for it, because you won't even admit it." 

"I think I might love you," Clark said. 

"I'm not blind. I see how you look at me." God, he shouldn't be able to look so beautiful and sad and earnest all at once. "We will never know what we could be, will we?" 

A voice, one with the wind, everywhere and nowhere at once, broke through the storm. "you should never thumb your nose at love. it isn't a gift that comes so often in a life. i think you're subconscious is right. He loves you, but can i wager everything on a connection you fight with tooth and nail? you child, are incomprehensible." 

__

Lana turned to the wind, searching for the owner of the scathing voice. "Who's there? You don't have any right to judge me." 

"i know he loves you, for that alone you will have to do." 

* * *

Chloe assembled the ingredients for some Sullivan style warm milk. You needed sugar, Hershey's chocolate syrup, cinnamon, and a tiny dash of Redi-Whip. Where was the Redi Whip? Chloe elbowed her way to the very back of the fridge. They just couldn't be out. That was almost as bad as running out of coffee. "Yes!" Chloe brandished the Redi Whip and turned to inventory her ingredients. 

"What are you making?" 

Chloe jumped and smiled at Lana. She was standing there in her light blue satin pajamas just a step from being in the light of the kitchen. "Sullivan style warm milk, you have to try some. I'm obviously not the only one having a hard time sleeping tonight." 

Lana came forward and sat down at the bar in front of Chloe. She felt sleepy and slow like she was walking underwater. "Where's the milk?" 

"Whoops." Chloe scanned the fridge again. "Don't tell me we're out. I can't believe that, everything but the milk." 

Lana sucked in a deep breath to try and get some oxygen to her brain and maybe wake up a little. She let her heavy eyelids droop shut. Someone was with her around her, wearing her like a glove. When her eyes opened again it wasn't because she told them to. She was standing back a step, watching everything, watching Chloe, but it wasn't her. The world looked gray from here, gray and cold. "We have to go." 

"Unfortunately, Smallville doesn't have a twenty-four hour market. We'll have to do without the all natural Sominex," Chloe said. Lana didn't nod or smile. She looked kind of dopey and drowsy. Maybe she was sleep walking or something. "Are you awake?" 

"We are quite awake. Wish us luck." Lana turned and walked away. 

Lana had to be sleepwalking, Chloe reasoned. She was headed for the front door in her pajamas and bare feet, not good. You weren't supposed to wake sleepwalkers up but how did you keep them out of trouble? "Lana, wait up." Chloe followed into the living room, but Lana had started to run. To change or follow in robe... "Dang it," Chloe grumbled. If anyone saw her running around in fuzzy slippers and her old robe, she would never live it down. 

* * *

__

A little bubble of light surrounded from all sides by a rancid flowing river of black, Clark huddled in his sanctuary, watching the river run its slow course around him. Sometimes he thought there was a break in the blackness, a rusty vein of blood, fresh death, or an amber streak of pure fear, but eventually it was all swallowed back into the blackness. This place felt like a dream, with its fuzzy borders and unreality. 

But then there was the reality of it all, when he heard Lex's voice, and when he had been able to see the ballroom. Clark reached a hand out hesitantly toward the black river beyond the safe bubble of light. He barely brushed it with the tips of his fingers. Discord, nails on chalkboards, a taste like the bitterest persimmon, and a torrent of vile images, flooded Clark's senses. Under his skin, it felt like there were a million ants crawling and stinging. 

Even after he pulled away, some of it lingered, torturing his senses with an afterglow of agony. Clark curled into a ball and squeezed his eyes shut. So this was it. He lost to the shadow-voice. Maggot-face had stuffed him into a prison inside himself and God only knew what he was doing now with the super-powered alien body he had possessed. That wasn't true though, Clark knew what that thing was doing. He dreamed it. 

Clark wasn't sure how much time passed before he dared open his eyes, but when he did the scenery had changed. Before, the river of black had huddled close to his little sphere of light as though trying to crowd him away. Now it had withdrawn around an ugly puckered brown scar in its flow. So the river hadn't liked the touch anymore than he had? If he could endure the pain of it, maybe he could harm the invader in his brain? 

* * *

** Author's Note:**

First off response to a couple of comments. Doven, I don't like to worry Jonathan and Martha... It just keeps happening when I'm torturing Clark **grin**. Becs, hehe the British accent thing, I found myself thinking the same thing. I suspect it's because I watched Resident Evil recently. The Red Queen... If you've seen it you understand. :) 

Now on to the sad news, I HATE chapter 8. It's driving me insane. If chapter 8 doesn't work, this story totally doesn't work. If I'm a no show next week it's because chapter 8 is giving me a migraine and drove me to a different story. 

Have a good weekend and Peace!


	8. Appetizer

****

Chapter 8 

Appetizer 

Bloody footprints traced a winding path up the marble steps of the Luthor mansion. They crossed the entryway, weaving from one side of the room to the other on their inexorable progression forward. Lex discovered the bloody trail on his way back to the ballroom. He followed the perfect little tracks down the hall and out to the solarium. A girl was sitting lotus style in the center of the moonlight drenched room. "Lana, is that you?" 

Lana turned and smiled at Lex. "If it isn't the paradox himself. Yes, we are both here," she purred. "I like this vessel and the soul in it. Neither are perfect but they agree with me, you know? Though I damaged myself a bit in my hurry to come back here." She ran her hands along the shredded soles of her feet and her palms came back bloody. "A little healing and prayer will do us some good I think. We have a big morning coming up." 

Lex looked away from the mangled feet and grimaced. "It's you. You're back. You picked Lana Lang? Why not pick someone a bit more physically robust? What were you thinking? Your brother is going to break you in half." 

Lana shrugged and turned away from him. "I'm counting on Clark to help me. I chose a vessel I thought might stir him to fight the darkness. I have a lot of experience at this. I'm doing what's best." 

"Pardon me, if I'm not quite as blase about the homicidal demon in my ballroom, wearing my friend," Lex snapped. He hunkered down in front of Lana and stared into her eyes, searching for the ancient thing he spoke with earlier. "What can you do? Your brother has powers. I saw him melt the light fixtures in that ballroom by looking at them, and if Clark's story about the cows is half-accurate he's strong and fast. How do you counter?" 

Lana shrugged and shook her head. "We have no power in this world, except that our vessel brings. Your friend Clark is fast and strong, and apparently he can melt light fixtures by looking at them." 

Lex dropped back and sat staring at the newly possessed Lana. "Clark..." Clark is a mystery. A hundred questions flickered through Lex's mind: What are you Clark? Why do I keep learning truths the hard way? What the Hell are you? This little girl couldn't possibly be correct. She had to be jerking him around, playing some kind of mind game. "Sure, I'm supposed to believe that? If Clark were melting things by looking at them, I'd know about it." 

Lana cocked her head to the side and frowned prettily. "You know, I don't think Lana is very clear about Clark either now that I look. You should know that as a rule, I don't lie. I want you to think about this for just a second. Why would Clark pick meteor rocks to kill himself? It would have been a slow painful way to go. I'll tell you why he did it. He couldn't think of anything else that would do the trick, that's why." When Lana smiled across at Lex, it was the ancient one staring out, looking straight into his mind, reading him, learning what would convince him. "Clark dreams about it sometimes, the time you hit him with your car. It was the first time something made him face exactly how different he was, well is." 

Not lying or playing games? If she wasn't playing games, then the power was Clark's, and the lies belonged to Clark too. "I dream about it sometimes too, you know. It was the first time I really faced death. It was my wake up call, my second chance at life." Lex had the distinct impression that he hadn't needed to bother sharing his introspection. The girl knew what was in him. He felt as deep as a puddle, facing her. "Why would he lie to me? I wouldn't hurt him or use him. He thought I was going to use him. I guess I'm hard to trust." 

"Don't take it like that. If you hide long enough and well enough, can you see how safe those secrets would feel? I don't know if the danger he perceives is really waiting for him to slip and expose his differences, but you aren't the only one he isn't telling." Lana reached a hand out to Lex's pocket and an oblong swelling there. "You're prepared for the worst. It takes some of the worry out of this for me. If I fail, don't hesitate for a second. Your friend Clark can dodge a bullet if he's paying attention. I imagine those can kill him though." 

Lex's hand dropped to the pocket Lana had indicated. A rush order from Cadmus Labs was weighing his jacket down. Fifteen shiny green bullets were there just in case the worst really happened. "I have a lot of questions that can wait, but you better win this, little girl."_ I don't want to kill my friend. I don't care if he's lied to me, or even what he is. Those were small things, tiny betrayals, that could be worked through as long as everyone was breathing. _

"Thank you so much for that little bit of encouragment. I'll be sure to win now. It isn't like I've been trying to defeat my brother for thousands of years, is it?" Lana rolled her eyes and turned away from Lex. "We need to meditate, so please give us a little peace." 

Lex rose slowly and walked away. The sun would be rising in a few hours, and the shadows in the hall felt long, deep, and somehow sinister. "Next thing you know, I'm going to be afraid of the dark." Lex plopped down into one of the antique brocade chairs lining the hall and rubbed at his temples. This was all too strange, unreal. He was going to wake up and it was all going to be a terrible nightmare. 

With an unsteady hand, Lex drew a slick chrome box out of his jacket. It was heavy. The lead lining added the weight. There were fifteen perfect bullets in that case. They were molded from purified meteor rock, high propulsion death for Clark. The boys at Cadmus Labs knew better than to ask questions, but they worked fast. Lex ran a hand across the back of his neck and tried to just breathe. "What the Hell am I doing?" 

** "thErE yOu arE. i wAnted tO thAnK yoU fOr thE gifT. a gOOd meaL is An eXceLLent waY tO wAke uP fOr thE baTTle." **

The thick uneven voice was sounding more like Lionel to Lex every time he heard it. He refrained from to turning so he wouldn't have to watch that voice coming out of Clark's mouth. "I thought you were getting ready for your big day," Lex said. "There are still a few hours until sunrise." Not to be ignored, Maggot-face took a seat next to Lex and covered one of Lex's hands with his own. It was sticky and wet. That thing had thanked him for a meal. Lex looked at the hand resting on his own and his stomach flipped over. Rusty brown in the dim light, it was covered well past the elbow in viscous gore. The blood was soaking through Lex's coat, turning the gray material black. "What the Hell did you do?" Clark's head was propped against the wall, his face molded into a wide-mouthed grin. You could see how the blood had run across his chin and drained down his neck. It almost looked like a child who'd gotten too enthusiastic eating something sticky, like chocolate, except it was blood. Maggot-face was playing again._ I hope Clark can't feel this or see it. _

** "ArE thErE aNy morE liKe thAt GuarD, anDre, ArOUnD thIs placE? i coULd uSe a secOnd couRse." **Maggot-face smacked his lips expectantly and moved his sticky arm around Lex's shoulder in a brotherly gesture. ** "thErE'S nothInG liKe consUminG tHe hEArt oF a creatuRe. IT tAStes dIffErEnt tO EvErY veSSel. BuT whEn tHe musclE bEAts tHe lasT tiMe wiTh yOUr tEEth iN iT, It'S LIKe aN orgAsm oF dEAth oN EverY WOrlD. HavE yOu EvEr trIEd iT?"**

Well, at least he knew whose blood was soaking into his jacket. Lex managed to keep his inclination to bolt under control. This was no time to panic or piss this thing off. It just said it was still hungry. "Andre was a good man. I'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from dining on my staff in the future," Lex said. "You think you can control yourself until the morning or should I find you a cow?" 

Maggot-face seemed to find that suggestion hilarious. He laughed deep and malicious. **"The coWs wErE taSty. YoU shOUld haVe sEEn youR frIEnd ClArk'S FACE whEn hE saW tHe leavinGs. IT waS claSSic, traGic anD hoRRifieD. I thouGht hE waS gOIng tO voMit THe mOrnIng AwaY." ** His grin fell and Maggot-face sneered across the hall at a dusty Monet. ** "You'RE frienD IS pIssIng mE oFF, yOu knoW. He'S liKe A spIKe oF pAIn, oF liGht, betwEEn mY temPleS. I'VE neveR haD TO dEAl wiTh a sOUL bEforE."**

_ Score one for Clark. I hope it's an agony. _ "This will all be over soon, right?" Lex rose smoothly and turned to face the demon from some distance. "Your sister has chosen her champion. You two will fight and then you'll go home to Hell, or wherever you're from." 

** "YoU knOw wHo shE chOSe? IS siSter'S chaMpion STronG? DoeS hEr veSSel coMpare tO MinE?" **

Lex mentally ran through the things he'd discovered Clark was capable of, and then he imagined how many ways this bastard could use that to annihilate Lana in under thirty seconds. He clutched the box of bullets tighter. "You might have the upper hand, but your sister isn't stupid. She'll put up a fight." 

** "SHE alWays dOes."**

* * *

The night sky was faded gray. The moon was gone and the stars would soon follow. Jonathan watched the sky oblivious to what the dawn would bring for his son. He hadn't slept, and he suspected Martha was still awake and in the kitchen. The kettle had let loose with a whistle a few minutes earlier, but Jonathan hadn't gone to investigate. Things were getting serious. If Clark didn't come home, what were they supposed to do? 

Calling the police was fine for other families, but they had secrets. You don't invite the authorities into your life when you have secrets. They managed to find enough trouble and exposure without bringing it home on purpose. Clark knew that. So where was he? 

Martha stood indecisively with an extra cup of tea. She could see Jonathan, rocking back and forth gently. When they had a crisis, they always came together, supported each other. Well this was the first big crisis since Clark went mad on the red meteor rock, and there was a wall between them. She couldn't help Jonathan, and he couldn't help her. That wall hadn't sprung up overnight. It had formed slowly over the last few months and every brick had Lionel Luthor's name on it. Martha pushed the door open, determined to make things better, for Clark's sake if nothing else. "Jon, tea?" 

"Every little bit of caffeine helps. I wasn't very good at all-nighters in college and I'm significantly worse at them now." Jonathan scooted over and made room for Martha on the swing. "I guess we need to do something." 

Martha nodded and settled in next to Jonathan. "Agreed. I think we should go see Lex. Something's going on. He called twice yesterday, and he was the last person to talk to Clark." 

"You've been thinking about this." Jonathan took a long drink of the tea and nodded. "If Clark doesn't show up, and our trip to visit Lex isn't very enlightening, we'll have to go to the police." 

"I know. I'll make sure the cellar is locked before we leave," Martha said. Jonathan's arm came around her shoulder and he pulled her close. The wall she'd imagined wasn't there in that moment. Their marriage was stronger than any flimsy wall growing over a few months. Their love was stronger. Why did Clark have to worry her out of her mind to remind them? 

"It's going to be fine." Jonathan whispered the words almost inaudibly into Martha's hair as the sun made its first appearance at the horizon. 

* * *

Oblivious to the rising sun, one muddy bedraggled Chloe stomped up her front stairs. She looked down at her favorite orange slippers and sighed dramatically. They weren't orange anymore. They were muddy brown and nearly fuzz free. Chasing after sleep-walking Lana had been a bad idea. That girl ought to be on the track team, the way she'd run. Chloe kicked off her slippers so she wouldn't leave tracks to her bedroom and did her best to open the front door without eliciting a squeak. 

"Chloe? Where have you been all night?" Gabe Sullivan was sitting on the couch in his robe and he came to his feet at the sight of his muddy, pajama clad daughter. "What happened? I've been worried. I woke up half the county calling around trying to locate you. Lana isn't with you?" 

"I'm sorry Dad. Long story short, Lana apparently sleep walks. At least I'm pretty sure she was sleep walking. I tried following her to make sure she didn't walk in front of a raging cow or anything, but I lost her. She can really run you know. I fell in a big stinky mud puddle, and she was gone. Hopefully she's okay, but I haven't got a clue where she ended up." Chloe hobbled her way over to her dad and frowned comically. "Don't bother to hold it in. Laugh all you want. I deserve it for worrying you." 

Gabe did smile, but he didn't laugh. "Sweetie, I'd hug you, but that would just mean more laundry in the long run. I'll call the police and let them know to look out for Lana. She'll probably be calling for a ride soon. Are you going to be okay?" 

"I really am sorry about worrying you, Dad. Hopefully Lana will make it to a phone without too much trouble." Chloe headed for the stairs, her destination the shower. "I'm going to use all the hot water, so consider yourself warned." 

* * *

A spot of white in a sea of black, Clark paced the circle of light, his territory in his own brain. It was larger than before, and getting larger all the time. He thought he could hear Lex again at one point but the words hadn't made sense. He was trying to push the light toward where that voice had come from. That voice was coming from outside his brain. If he could get to that window to outside, he could find out what was happening. Lex had promised to kill him if this happened. So why was he still here? At least hearing Lex, meant that he hadn't killed his friend, yet. 

It took a few minutes to work up the will power to touch the dark mess sitting out there and enlarge his circle, but he had to keep going. If he didn't keep going and Lex didn't come through, that thing was going to do horrible homicidal things with a nice unstoppable alien body. 

"You don't get to win, and you don't get to kill with my hands." Clark stared down at his insubstantial hands, full well knowing what kind of pain he was getting himself in for. He pushed his hands into the inky blackness. 

* * *

** "DAMN yoU!" **

Lex jumped back when Maggot-face cried out. The thing's breaths were coming rapid and shallow, and he was squeezing at his head. After a few moments, he rose and came jerkily forward until he was standing right in Lex's face. The smell was staggering, sweat and blood, and something else rotten just under the surface. 

** "You'RE frieNd iS maKinG mE anGrY, LEX. IF hE dOEs thaT agAin, i'LL hAve tO finD a wAy tO pUnish hIm, undErstanD. I cAn't tOUch hIm whErE hE iS. BUT i'll finD A wAY."**

Lex could feel his heart hammering in his chest, and he tried not to breathe the rancid air coming off Maggot-face. "You have an appointment to keep," Lex whispered. "The sun is rising, and your sister will be waiting." 

When he smiled this time, he almost looked like Clark again, if you avoided looking at the eyes and ignored to blood. ** "You'RE riGht. I shoulD taKe hEArt, whIchEvEr hearT mY SiSter chOse foR mE tHAt iS." **

Lex breathed deep once and stared into those insane eyes. He'd have to remember this moment for when the end came. It wasn't Clark he had to kill if the sister lost. This thing deserved to die. 

* * *

** Author's Note:**

Just FYI -- This fic was started before Insurgence and is set before Insurgence. All the lovely developments that have come along since then are considered non-entities. (I loved Rosetta so much! Poor Clark! I just wanted to give him a hug and tell him it was going to be okay. Jonathan did that for me, but I almost thought I saw a touch of Lord-help-us-I-am-a-little-afraid-now in his eyes over Clark's shoulder. **grin** That scene so inspired a dozen fics with me. Fortunately, I didn't go try to write them all.) 

I get more anti-Lana/Clark nearly every episode. I know this reads terribly CLanna. I don't understand Clark's attraction to the princess, but it exists and I'm not going to defy cannon on the issue... yet. 

There's some good and bad in here, I know. Tell me what you think :) hehe Reviewers rock, people! 

This isn't a super long fic and the ending isn't that far off. As you possibly know, I have serious ending issues, but I'm going to do my best to make this fic end strong. Wish me luck! 


	9. Gently Into That Good Night

****

Chapter 9 

Gently Into That Good Night 

The stars faded back until the world was grayed and dull in the twilight of early morning. Soon the gray faded pink then red until a fire was burning just below the tree line. Following the sun's lead, Lana rose from her meditation. The early morning light radiated through the solarium's glass, danced over her face, and warmed her skin. Two beings moved within one body. Every breath was a synchrony of will. Every motion sealed the two spirits more intimately together. Her brother was close, waiting for her, for them. 

Like a child peeking in on a forbidden surprise, Lana ducked her head around the door to the main house. There he was, the vessel housing her brother. A trill of dissent flitted through the souls twined together inside Lana. Both felt a tug of connection for the gore covered man in the hall. _ We love him. I love my brother, and you do love your Clark, whether you accept it or not._ "Brother, are you ready? The sun has arrived. You know how I love the morning." 

With a speed her vessel's eyes couldn't even follow, brother came to stand in front of her. He leaned in too close and smiled down exposing his teeth and the ropey cords of flesh clinging there. **"dO We fighT outsidE THen?"**

"I will meet you outside. Run along and allow me to proceed in peace," Lana said. She seemed unphased by the proximity of her brother or his coating of gore. Maggot-face leaned a bit closer until sister could feel his breath on her ear. 

"**Don'T maKe mE wAIt lonG."** As if flaunting his vessel's superiority, brother left with a rush of speed that stirred the paintings on the walls. 

Watching the two creatures animate Lana and Clark sent chills racing up and down Lex's spine. It was like being trapped in some sick play where his friends were disposable marionettes and he was the narrator, witness to everything but able to change nothing. 

With a clatter the heavy little munitions box slipped free from Lex's hand scattering green bullets across the hall. Lana dropped down to one knee and scooped up a handful of the potential projectiles. "You'll be needing these for later, just in case. Do you have your gun?" 

Lex almost laughed. Not quite the narrator of the play, he was the final act, the tragic ending. "Yes," Lex said. "I'm not sure I can pull the trigger." This wouldn't be the first time he'd held a gun with a life in the balance. Lex could still remember exactly how it had felt to kill Roger Nixon. Hold the gun up, aim, pull the trigger, a little recoil, and when you opened your eyes, a man was dead. It was like a recipe, simple. Killing Nixon had been scary, not because of any guilt or regret, but because it was easy. "Please don't lose this fight, little girl. I don't want to know if I can do this."

* * *

"You're close. You're close. You're close." Sitting in the center of his circle of light, Clark rocked back and forth, his arms folded around his head, squeezing. His last foray into the black river of agonies had not been an easy one and the effects lingered perniciously. If the ringing in his ears would just stop and if the burning under his skin would just fade, maybe he'd have the strength to try again, to fight more. There was a little voice inside him that didn't want to go on. It hurt to fight, but the light was safe. If he just stayed in the light, there needn't be any more burning or ringing or screaming. 

It would be so easy to just quit and rest... 

"But you won't. You don't know how." Hazy and indistinct, like a picture drawn in chalk after a rainstorm, Pete Ross, had come out of the light. He took a seat next to Clark and wrapped an arm around him. "Let the pain go. Store it away and box it up. This is your head. You're the master here." Clark let the apparition hold and protect him. Shutting his eyes he held on to the light and tried to push the pain away. Comforting smells: roses-Mother, corn-home, machine oil-Father, wafted through him, soothing his senses. When Clark opened his eyes again he was alone, but the pain was gone. 

Slowly he came forward until he was within arms reach of the black river, his enemy. Briefly, he considered shoving his hands back in, but what would happen if that didn't work? Would he have the strength to ever try again? While he had the strength and before he could think about it enough to reconsider, Clark threw himself into the blackness.

* * *

Big brother, stood atop a mound of daffodils, not oblivious to the destruction he wrought on the delicate yellow flowers, but definitely enjoying it. Spreading his arms wide, he sucked in a lungful of the morning air. There was rain in that air, thick and humid. The first clouds were only just arriving, but more were on their way. Today was going to be his kind of day: defeat sister, feast on a few hearts to celebrate, go home. Normally with a vessel this sturdy, the celebration would last for months, but the soul was too much of a pain, hardly worth the effort... 

An agony of white light filled big brother's senses. It wasn't like before, a focal spike of violation. This was a blanket, a melding. Was this what it felt like for sister when she joined with her champion? Clark's soul was constricting over him, coating him in it's agonizing life and light. 

When Clark's eyes opened again, two beings looked out. There was no synchrony or cooperation between them. Every motion, every breath, every thought was an exertion of will, an angry shouting match of yes-no, life-death, breath-I'd rather die. 

"Brother, Clark, are you ready then?" Lana said. She stood quietly without a weapon, or any real chance at victory. Bare-foot and pajama-clad, she held her head high. "I have come for you to fight. Do you accept my challenge." 

For the first time since their impromptu union, Clark and Brother moved in synchrony, turning to stare at sister, at Lana. Brother took advantage of Lana's entrance, exerting his will in the distraction of the moment. **"I aCCept youR chAllenGe. PreParE youR chaMpion tO DIE." ** No! Clark's will balked almost immediately, digging its heels in to fight the attack. This was Lana, this was his dream. She was standing there wait for something. She was waiting for him to... for him to kiss... **KILL HER! **... Kiss her ... **KILL HER! **... Kiss her. 

Abruptly, brother released his will and allowed Clark to move forward. Fine, Kiss her then. I'll kill her when you get done. While Clark's befuddled mind was occupied kissing, all Brother need do was snap Sister's neck. It wasn't the glorified victory, but it was better than defeat. 

* * *

With a trembling hand, Lex manually evacuated his clip of regular bullets. Then one at a time he slipped the meteor rock bullets into place. The clip was one round from full when he finished, but Lex didn't bother searching for the missing bullet. If he couldn't manage this with fourteen shots, a fifteenth wasn't likely to turn the tide. He should hurry. While he was fumbling around with loading his gun, the confrontation could have already started, or even finished. 

I can do this... Just follow the recipe. Down the hall, out the door, extend the arm, aim and wait for it. Pulling the trigger wasn't going to happen. The thing in Lana was going to win and everyone was going to walk away. When Lex pushed open the door, he didn't have to look for the combatants. They were a few feet away, standing in his back yard, not fighting. They were barely a hand's breath from one another. Was this a good turn or a bad one? Maggot-face could snuff out Lana at any moment, if he chose. "I can do this," Lex whispered. That wasn't Clark. Those mad eyes, and the smell of blood, Lex made himself remember what he was dealing with. When he finally raised his gun, it was with a steady hand.

* * *

The resistance was gone. The voice that Clark had been battling just vanished and he was back in his dream. This was his moment, a kiss to change everything. He reached out with his hand and cupped Lana's creamy soft cheek. Pulling her close, he claimed her with the kiss he practiced every night in his dreams. This kiss was going to show how much he loved her. It was going to bring her to him, make her understand. It burned, but not with passion. This kiss was fire, an agony flowing smoothly from Lana into him. Clark opened his eyes and wavered on his feet. This was a familiar pain, draining the strength from him, blurring his vision. This wasn't something you could fight and Clark didn't try, but Brother raged against his suddenly weak and immobile vessel. Then they were falling, unable to move, unable to breathe. 

Lana crouched over them, stroking at Clark's head. "I hope it doesn't hurt. Surrender?" 

Unable to answer with his failing vessel, brother withdrew, abandoning his champion and by extension conceding the battle. **"HOW... whaT did yOu DO?" **big brother hissed. 

"You remember the deadly rocks? I ran across one on my way to the battle." Sister said. "Can't say that I was actually expecting the kiss, but I always follow my instincts. My mouth seemed just the place to conceal my weapon until you came close enough." Abruptly, Lana slumped over, her breaths evening into a regular sleep pattern, but little sister remained sitting. She smiled at her brother. "my first victory, aren't you even going to congratulate me." 

**"I wAsn'T plaNNinG tO. TaKe mE homE," **Brother snapped. The black cords, his face, writhed more rapidly and he dropped to his knees. **"I supplicatE beCause i musT, nOw geT thIs oveR wiTH."**

"we will be beautiful, brother." Little sister came forward and knelt in front of her opposite, her other half. "i've been lonely, and i know you have as well. i want to go home." Leaning forward, little sister embraced her brother.

* * *

Lex watched the supposed battle without understanding what was happening. There was definitely a kiss then the puppeteers abandoned their marionettes. Light and dark, Lex watched them over the barrel of his gun until they embraced. When you mix black and white, you get a nice mellow gray, but where these two beings came together, a rainbow of colored light erupted. It was so bright that Lex dropped back and looked away. 

After the light faded, Lex turned back, hoping that the two combatants would just be gone, that it would all finally be over. Where the siblings had embraced a young woman had appeared. She was tall and lithe with wild purple hair. Her skin was a pale cream, her clothing a translucent shift dancing with every possible color in its rainbow weave. The other two, light and dark, hadn't been beautiful. The dark was plain hideous, but the light was so white it was transparent and without life. This new thing, this woman, was an expression of every color hiding in black and white. It was almost too much, too beautiful. She smiled knowingly at Lex, the same smile as the ancient little girl. He blinked and she was gone. 

In that one blink of an eye, everything was quiet and mundane again, as if none of it had happened. The only sound left to break the silence was a strong wind whipping through the trees. Looking up, Lex frowned at the darkening sky. Thick black clouds were rolling in, and the first clap of thunder broke into the quiet of the morning. He could see Clark and Lana, lying quietly next to each other. Were they dead? 

Lex ran the short distance to his fallen friends and dropped to his knees beside them. Lana was lying awkwardly, but her chest was rising and falling steadily. Lex grabbed her by the shoulder and shook. "Lana, are you okay?" She blinked at him owlishly and shoved his hand away. Curling into a more comfortable position on the grass, she went back to sleep. "Fine, we'll get you some caffeine later, princess." 

Clark on the other hand didn't appear to be sleeping peacefully. He was gray and silent. Was he even breathing? "Clark, wake up. Clark?" 

* * *

Light as feather and free, Clark was alone inside a warm white light. He had never felt more clean or safe, floating above anything that might touch him. The dark invader from his brain was gone as were all his worries. If he stayed here, he could leave all his responsibilities and pain on the other side of the light. Clark's weariness ran deep, all the way to his soul, and this place was peace. Would he finally get to rest? 

A woman emerged from the light, pretty and petite. A head full of dark curls bounced as she moved, and her vibrant green eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "I know you're weary. The last few days tore at your very soul," she said. Her voice resonated with the light here. She was the light, or at least part of it. "Life is precious though. Eternal rest would be easy, but you have to remember why we fight it. You have love and hope... life. I want you to have a life. You're my hope." 

"I'm your hope?" Clark's mind filled with memories so old that he only dreamed them in his deepest sleeps. He was being held close while someone sang in a sweet melodic language. There was a smell, crisp and fresh, but unlike anything on Earth. Mother... A sob rolled out of him and Clark shook his head. "I'm too tired. Why can't I stay here with you?" 

The small woman embraced him and more recent memories filled him, his parents, Lana, Chloe, Pete, Lex. He saw his family and the dangers in their lives, the mutants, the evils. "I can't leave them, can I? They need me." 

"You need them," his mother whispered. "Fight." 

* * *

** Author's Note:**

Well this is just about it. I considered putting, The End after the last line as a joke, but then I decided that would be totally unprofessional and silly. **grin** There's another chapter to come and an epilogue. (Give me a couple of days to ruminate.) 

The scene, Kiss her, Kill her that battle of wills was the original concept this story was written for. Brother and sister, the twins, are a couple of characters from an original story of mine that I plan to write someday. I used them to get to write that scene. I know this fic leaves off with a lot of ambiguity where the siblings are concerned. To write their story properly would be a novel (One of many as yet unwritten novels. Maybe I should stop writing so much fan fiction?). 

Lollann, I hear you about the Demon voice. It was a difficult choice, but after input from my roommate and a long discussion, I decided the mood the **oDD letteRing** provided outweighed the drawbacks. Would anyone else like to weigh in on this issue? I am open to criticism. If many of the readers found the choice distracting, I'll change it in a heartbeat. :) 

Happy Spring Break! 


	10. The Innocent and the Guilty

****

Chapter 10 

The Innocent and the Guilty

A fat drop of cold rain struck Lana's face and her eyes fluttered open. The sky was turbulent and black, like the day of the twister. How on Earth had she ended up outside in a storm? Groggily, she sat up and stretched. Lord, she was tired, like she'd been running a marathon. The rain began to fall more steadily and Lana squinted against it. 

"Damn you, breathe." 

Lana turned to her right, and there was Lex. His white shirt was stained pink along the arms and the rain was beginning to soak through it, running the colors. He was pumping, doing CPR, then he was breathing for the person on the ground. Those pink stains were probably blood, and the person on the ground had to be hurt. Clark? There was a gun sitting next to Lex's leg, next to Clark. Lana shook her head against the line of reasoning her brain was following: Lex, blood, Clark, gun. Had Lex shot Clark? "How did I get here? Why would you?" Lana whispered. "What happened? What did you do?" 

Lex turned her way, a hard determined expression on his face. "What did I do? I'm trying to fix this. What did you do? You were there, and your hand did this." 

Lana shook her head and tried to rise, but her feet shot daggers up her legs and she could bear weight on them. "I wouldn't shoot Clark. I don't even own a gun." 

The rain just kept getting harder, running over Lex's face in clear rivers, but he didn't blink or look away. "You kissed him, Lana. Do you remember what you did?" 

"I..." _Clark was standing over her. The sun was shining behind him and he leaned close. There was blood already on him, his face and hands. They kissed, but there was something in her mouth, oblong and hard, it clattered against her teeth and she sent in sailing into Clark's mouth. _"We kissed and I had a bullet in my mouth," Lana whispered. 

Lex snatched up his gun and ejected the clip. "My missing bullet, we have to get it out of him. He's allergic." 

Lana crawled to Clark's side and shook her head. Whatever was going on, and however she'd gotten involved, Clark looked dead. "I don't think he's breathing, Lex. We have to get an ambulance out here, now." 

Lex had pulled Clark's head into his lap and he was peering into his mouth. "I don't see it. He must have swallowed it. Help me roll him over." 

Between Lana and Lex they managed to get nearly two hundred pounds of dead weight, Clark Kent rolled onto his stomach. Lex beat at Clark's back trying to stimulate some type of gag reflex or vomiting response. Calling an ambulance wasn't a good idea with someone as unique as Clark, unless you were ready to let the world in on all his secrets, and Clark obviously wasn't ready for that. He might never be ready for anything if they didn't get help though. "Lana, go inside and call Helen, Dr. Bryce. Tell her it's an emergency and she has to come. She's on at the ER tonight, but you have to get her to come. Go!" 

Forget the pain, Lana commanded herself as she pulled herself up. It hurt like walking on jagged broken glass, but she tried to run for the door to the mansion. 

* * *

"I have a key," Martha said with a little reluctance. She and Jonathan had been standing on Lex's stoop for nearly twenty minutes without a response to the bell, and now it was raining straight down. Lex didn't have any live-in staff at the moment. The cleaners came around nine and the company men only came when summoned. If Lex was of a mind to ignore the bell, there wasn't anyone to fend off the visitors after the security people at the gate let you through. That had been a little off this morning too though. The guard house had been deserted, and Martha had had to slip through the bars to buzz them in. 

"I don't think that's a good idea," Jonathan said. "We'll just head on down to the police station and go forward from there." 

"Help, please! Can you hear me?" 

Martha and Jonathan exchanged puzzled looks and started around the side of the house, for the desperate voice. Lana was crawling through the mud on hands and knees, her pajamas soaked through and brown. "Are you okay?" Martha and Jonathan dropped down beside her, and tried to support the trembling girl. "They need help. I was supposed to call Dr. Bryce. Lex and Clark..." Lana pointed back toward the gardens and choked back a sob. "Clark, he, isn't breathing." 

* * *

Lex couldn't tell what changed, but Clark went from lifeless and without breath, to a struggling, retching, trembling but very alive young man. Lex saw the bullet when it came up, but it didn't stop the vomiting. Clark seemed to throw up harder, like he was going to expel his guts onto the grass. It was probably a good thing, the poison needed to come up. 

Out of the storm, someone came barreling up to Lex and jerked him to his feet. "You son of a bitch, what did you do to him?" 

Jonathan Kent, the man had perfect timing. Lex pushed the raging farmer back and glared daggers at him. "Back off, and shut your mouth, before you say something you're going to regret, Mr. Kent. I didn't do anything, but help." 

Martha had pulled Clark's head onto her lap and she was stroking his back while he purged his guts. Lex wasn't sure but he seemed to be slowing down. God knew there couldn't be much left inside him to throw up. "What happened?" Martha asked. "Has Clark been here all this time?" 

Lex looked between the Kents and shook his head slowly. "You want to know what went on here. I suggest you ask your son. I'd consider taking him to a doctor. If you don't have one you can trust, I can help with that." 

"I don't know what you mean," Jonathan snapped. What did Lex think he knew? Why would he make that comment about a doctor they could trust? "Martha, help me. We're getting Clark out of here." 

Lex didn't argue or offer any more help. He'd done all he could for Clark, and his friend was breathing. That hadn't seemed possible a few hours ago. Jonathan and Martha managed to get Clark to his feet between them, and Lex caught Clark's eye briefly before they started across the lawn. That look was more thanks than Lex would ever need. That look was simple, a message that didn't have to be said, _my friend, thank you._

Exhaustion seemed to hit like a wall after the Kents were gone with Clark and Lana. Lex wasn't sure what it was time to feel. There was relief that everyone was alive and sane. There was anger at being lied to and not trusted. Coating it all was a lingering fear. This situation had spiraled out of control so quickly, and it all could have gone so very differently. He might have begun this day with a boy's blood on his hands, or worse if he had needed to pull the trigger and hadn't been able to, there might be hundred or a thousand people's blood on his hands. 

Then it hit him. Lex didn't have time to feel anything, not yet. There was a dead security guard sprawled across from his ballroom. That kind of mess required special cleaners, and a liberal amount of money to sweep under the rug. Lex plopped down on his front steps and let the rain beat down on his head. It felt good, cold and pure, a nice prelude to getting his hands dirty fixing this mess. 

* * *

Outside the hospital, Jonathan jumped out of the back of the truck and scooped Lana into his arms. "You're going to be fine," he whispered. The emergency room was next to deserted and Jonathan didn't wait for an orderly or a nurse to offer him help. He settled Lana on a nearby gurney and stepped back. "Some help over here," he called. "I have to go take care of Clark, Lana. You're going to be fine." 

Lana nodded. She turned to the nurse who had started barking history questions at her and poking and prodding. Mr. Kent would be back with Clark in a second, and she needed to see him breathing and fine before this nurse carted her off. Where was he? 

* * *

Jonathan squeezed himself into the cab of the truck and wrapped an arm around Clark, sharing warmth. "How is he?" Jonathan asked. "Has he been said anything about what happened?" 

Martha shook her head and restarted the truck. "He's been shivering and I know he's cold, but he hasn't said a word." 

Jonathan turned Clark's head so he could look him in the eyes. He was awake and his eyes were clear. "Clark, I need you to talk to me. What happened to you? Did you go after the thing that hurt the cows? How did it hurt you? Did Lex do this?" 

Clark squeezed his eyes shut at the mention of the cows. He shook his head and jerked his head free of his father's hand. "It wasn't Lex," he whispered. "If Lex hadn't helped, I'd be dead." 

"You have to tell us what happened, honey. We won't be able to help you if we don't know what's wrong," Martha said. She made the last turn for home and tried to smile reassuringly. "Just talk to us." 

"I can't talk about it," Clark said. "I won't talk about it. It's over and I don't ever want to think about it again. As for what's wrong with me, meteor rock went down the wrong way." Martha and Jonathan turned to him with similar shocked expressions. "Long story," Clark added. "I don't think there's any of it left in me, but I still feel kind of rotten." 

Martha threw the truck into park and killed the engine. "You swallowed a meteor rock? How could that happen?" She was so scared at the thought of one of those rocks inside her baby that she was trembling. "It's a miracle you're alive." 

Jonathan just shook his head. "I'll take the miracle. We don't have to talk about what happened, yet. Getting you warm and feeling less rotten is goal number one." 

Once outside, Jonathan tried to support Clark on the walk to the house, but he wouldn't let him. "I can walk, Dad. I just have to get to the bathroom and take a hot bath. I'll be better if I can get warm." 

It was strange, the way Clark was pushing them away, but Jonathan didn't want to force the matter with him weak and sick. "Be careful, son. We're here." Neither Jonathan or Martha breathed until Clark had finished his relatively slow shuffle up the porch steps. Martha rushed forward to hold the door, but Clark didn't even meet her eyes. His arms were wrapped tight around himself and he just seemed to be focused inward. 

Once they were separated by the bathroom door, Martha spun on Jonathan. "What in God's Earth could have happened?" 

* * *

Leaning against the closed bathroom door, Clark stared at himself in the mirror across the room. Patches of dried blood clung to his skin where the rain hadn't washed it away, and mud caked up his hair. He look like a refugee from a war, and he felt like he'd just survived the plague. A new batch of shivers raised goose flesh along his arms and Clark turned on the hot water. This was what it was like to really feel cold. The jock with the frostbite touch gave him his first taste of cold, but this was somehow worse, bone deep, and it wouldn't go away. 

It was hard to manage the buttons on his shirt with trembling fingers, but after he got it off, he was reluctant to put it on his mother's floor. There was too much mud and blood and nastiness. Instead Clark dropped the garment into the wastebasket. Clark stripped everything away depositing it in the waste can. He would burn it all with his heat vision when it stopped raining, burn it until the wind carried it all away. 

"It wasn't you," Clark told himself. He scrubbed methodically at the blood and muck clinging to his skin. "It wasn't you and you're free now. That thing won't ever touch you again. It can't hurt anyone or anything." _ Sure it wasn't you, just your hands, just your teeth. _ God, how was he ever going to explain this to his parents? What if they didn't understand? What if they were afraid of him? Clark covered his face and fought to hold in his sobs, but he couldn't contain the tears leaking from his eyes into the darkly stained water. _ I should have been stronger... I'm so sorry._

* * *

A cooling off period seemed like a good idea to Lex. He didn't want to walk in on Clark trying to clear the water with his parents. So it was nearly a week before he came to the farm for a visit. No one seemed to be around at the house, so Lex made his way out to the barn. There was Clark, sitting with his telescope, silent and still as a statue. "Hey, I thought you might still be in bed. Lana said you'd missed a lot of school lately and you weren't taking visitors. She's doing fine, in case you were wondering." 

"No thanks to me. Are you here to tell me what happened during that last possession? Because I'm not sure I want to know," Clark said. His gaze never left the horizon as he spoke. 

"Nothing too terrible happened. I thought you might want some details about what that voice was and some assurance that it wouldn't be back," Lex said. "You didn't get all the lovely explanations that came my way." 

Clark shook his head. "I don't want to think about it. When that thing was really gone, I knew. I just want to forget." 

"Understandable, can I come up?" Lex waited for Clark's nod before heading up. He seemed distant, detached, like he wasn't completely awake. Sane and breathing, Lex reminded himself. Things could always be worse. Joining Clark at the edge of the window, Lex took a seat on a bail of hay. 

Clark almost smiled and glanced Lex's way. "I don't think that's good for Armani." 

"I can afford it." Lex chuckled and tried to catch Clark's eye but he was already looking back outside. "Why are you hiding out here, Clark? You're not sick. It's over. You said you knew when that thing was gone, well you were right. I'm surprised your parents are putting up with this." 

"My parents don't know what to do because I haven't told them what happened. I can't tell them. They would never understand. The words don't exist to explain it to them. The only reason you're even here, is because you don't understand like they would. If they knew what I did under that thing's influence, they'd be afraid. I'm afraid." 

"I don't understand that I should be afraid," Lex said. "What if I did understand? Those things that possessed you and then Lana, had no power in this world, except what they gained from those they possessed. I saw you do some very impossible things, and I know what happened to that herd of cattle." Lex rose and turned Clark so he would have to look him in the eyes. "I'm not afraid, because it wasn't you." 

Clark squeezed his eyes shut and fought the tears leaking down his face. "It wasn't me," Clark repeated. "I know it wasn't me." He wasn't afraid? Lex wasn't afraid of him, and he knew enough that he ought to be. 

"If you want a ride, I'll take you to see Lana," Lex offered. "It will do you some good to get off the farm." 

Coming to a decision in that instant, Clark shook his head. "No, I'll see her tomorrow if she's back in school. I should really talk to my parents today. They're worried." 

"Good." Lex headed for the exit. "We have a lot of talking to do too, but it can wait. Talk to your parents, and come see me when you're ready." 

* * *

  
  
** Epilogue**

Chloe took out the hack saw she'd borrowed from the garage and glanced over her diagram for a miniature golf hole. "This is never going to work. I'm going to fail geometry. What was I thinking taking that class under Mr. Carter?" She couldn't even get mad at Clark for deserting her. According to Lana, whatever the freakish thing that happened to her was, it had happened to Clark too. No one had seen Clark since it went down, and he hadn't called. Chloe had tried the direct approach, but Martha and Jonathan turned her away. 

Chloe tried to drag the saw across her sheet of plywood, but it didn't budge. "I can do this." 

"Can I help?" 

"Clark? Oh my God, you're alive. Where have you been?" Chloe stood and threw her arms around her reclusive buddy. He looked the same, maybe a little different around the eyes, older. "Tell me I get an exclusive. Lana was incoherent about what happened." Seeing Clark's face fall stopped Chloe cold. "You don't have to tell me, I'm stopping. Friend first, reporter later, if you're up to it." 

"If it's okay, can we go with reporter never on this one. I'm pretty incoherent about it all. I don't want to think about what happened either." Clark picked up Chloe's diagram. He turned it, trying to decipher it from every angle, but he cringed. "It's a good thing I came along when I did. Do you have your protractor?" 

* * *

Jonathan folded the newspaper and tossed it across the dinner table to Martha. "Check out the bottom article, first page. That was right around when everything happened with Clark, isn't it?" 

Martha glanced down at the article. 

** Head of Security Still Missing **

_ Andre Peterson, former head of residential security, for Smallville's own Lex Luthor was reported missing just over a week ago. While the police have found no sign of foul play, the file is still open and our Sheriff's department has opened the crime hotline if you have any leads..._

Martha stopped reading and looked up. When Clark told them about the demon that possessed him, about the dreams, and how Lex had helped him, she'd been afraid but relieved too. It was over before she ever knew how bad things had become. No one had actually been hurt, just some livestock. This couldn't be related. What had happened shut Clark down, and nearly broke him. If this was related, it might just shatter him. "I don't see any reason to think this has anything to do with what happened to Clark." 

Jonathan could read Martha like a book and he nodded. "I think we ought to burn that, and maybe he won't run across it anywhere else. If he does, hopefully he won't connect any dots he shouldn't." 

** The End**

* * *

** Author's Note: **

Okay, I'm officially wrung out. Hopefully, me closing my eyes and sobbing over my keyboard translates well into fiction. 

The consensus seems to be 'keep Demon voice freaky-font', (I was hoping you guys would feel that way). 

Never regret the long reviews becs, **grin** they're always fun for everyone. 

Finally, for a change I'm not in the middle of posting anything, though I do have quite a few stories started. Nothing is really shining through as a project I want to make a weekly endeavor. If something hasn't come to the forefront by Friday, you won't be hearing from me until something does. 

Good luck making it through the reruns until the new episodes and peace! 


End file.
